Bar On The Corner
The rain fell in the street through the door,
The man behind the bar filled a glass.
Up on the stage a young man with a guitar,
The waitress is making a pass.
An old man in a battered coat in the corner,
Staring into his drink as a tear rolls down his face.
Sad and alone, no one has time for him,
He wants to get out of this place.
The man with the guitar sings a sad song,
The waitress stops to listen in for a bit.
Through the windows the rain still falls,
Falls down to earth on the road, to hit.
The guitar sounds like an entire band,
The voice floats across the room.
A song that’s so sad but also so sweet,
He’ll sing himself into his tomb.
The woman at the table by the window,
She stares out the window to the street.
There’s a sad expression on her face,
She had always thought love would be sweet.
The man at the bar looks to the guitar,
And slowly his face turns to a grin.
An old song that he once knew,
Some song before he left all his kin.
The man in another corner wearing a suit,
He sits in his chair and looks to the door.
His job leaves no time for a wife,
His life is empty, but he wants so much more.
The rain falls harder in the streets,
Falls to a small bar somewhere below.
A million lives pass through and pass by,
Nothing good ever goes slow.
This poem is copyright © to Mike Davidson
1998