The Dirty Pretty Blues
Contributed by
Ruby2sdy
on
Tuesday, 11th July 2006 @ 01:32:38 PM in AEST
Topic:
StoryPoetry
|
For the gentle kiss of that untouched rose,
The tragic wanderer continually roams,
Heart in his suitcase, gun at his side,
Searching this world, wondering where she might hide,
He met her in the starlight, dress blowing in the breeze,
Drinking Bacardi, being talked to by sleaze,
‘Such a pretty bar-prop’ he thought, sitting in his stool,
Unaware that this ‘bar-prop’ would soon make him a fool,
Ever since that night, when she smiled with lacquered lips,
He longed to hold her, feel her body swell, beneath his fingertips,
And still he goes on searching, though it’s been a year or more,
He’s looked under every stone and behind every door,
The thought that keeps him going is pure, simple, sweet,
The thought of holding her as their bodies meet,
Oh what a beauty, his girl from the south,
Sapphire eyes, and red-lipsticked mouth,
With hair that’s as scarlet as the blood that he bleeds,
His girl from the south is all that he needs,
And still our cowboy searches, though it’s been ten years or more,
And he’s certain that this little town, he’s been to, sometime before,
But all these little places, they blend, and look the same,
And for the loss of his pretty girl, he has only himself to blame,
The music that was playing, was the dirty pretty blues,
And he was certain that this darling girl was just looking for someone to use,
But she was as honest as the day was long,
And with one look into her eyes, he knew that he was wrong,
So, silently he searches, though twenty years have gone,
Knowing that his southern girl comes second to none.
Copyright ©
Ruby2sdy
... [
2006-07-11 13:32:38]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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