Soundtrack to the Soul

Richard M. Ankers - Author



A slow thrumming of thumb on strings;

A guitar plays somewhere in the darkness.

I take another swill of my drink,

As the bar girl looks on with disfavour.

I’m lowering the tone in my melancholy.

Uncaring, I mop the sweat from my tired brow.

Being here reminds me of her;

The first time we met;

The first time I loved,

And the endless days of heartbreak since.

Funny how many memories you find

In the bottom of a bottle;

In a bar you wish you could forget,

Whilst the sound of the guitar strums on.





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