The Last Token Chance
So many times he’s needed a friend,
his wine only lasts until
the bottle reaches the end,
so many days in ruin
following the trend, those lost in hours
indulging in proof of the Scottish blend,
yet one day
at the crossroads he did linger,
four signs of directions
his mind forced into reflections,
lifts a hand and points a finger
remembers the days, before
those of a singer,
living next door with eyes of green
he sees her now surely not a dream,
when as an army
she penetrates his defences
blows away his mordant mind,
brings him back to his senses
with lashes of love that bind.
© Harry J Horsman 2021
Copyright © Harry Horsman | Year Posted 2021
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