Thursday, April 26, 2012

Crumpled dreams - 11

and her page said:

Slow Dance in a No Name Town

A small dark motel with a curving bar

branded by fallen cigarette butts
carved with misshaped hearts
and crazy initials.

Old smoke condensed on window panes

sadly in need of a washing or two
bits of peanut shells ground into
the gaps of the floorboards.

What an unlikely place to fall in love.

The drive had been long
down winding dusty roads
bordered by swaying field on unknown crops
ending at this leaning porch motel which
blared melodies that we knew.

What an unlikely place to fall in love.

Time went on, song after song
the heat descended and the crowd grew dense
thunder rolled in, the doors both front and side were flung open
the songs disappeared amongst the chatter and only now and then
did we catch a familiar word.

What an unlikely place to fall in love.

Sitting alone, getting deep in my chair 
rain splattering on gravel outside
couples seeking refuge 
racing from the peeling picnic tables outside.


A voice I recognize starts falteringly
gaining confidence with the encouragement of the crowd.
I turn in my comfortable chair
that's when I found my unlikely love. 

For the rest of The Little Story, read here.

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