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Old 29th June 2006, 00:06   #2670
Major Dude
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Join Date: Feb 2002
Location: Back in TX finally
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Great to see you too man! and beautiful poem, you haven't lost the touch

There's No Home in Canada

She stares through paned glass, the snow falls
like her memories and melts on her breath,
No lime lights for this beauty sulks on a pink bed,
Holding a picture of false hopes and dreams,
Wishing she could be away on the southern sun.

The voices from downstairs drone with drunken
whispers from a mother who's soul belongs
in a Merlot bottle, caroling the Christmas blues,
As she stumbles blindly through her daughter's
half-hearted pleas of help to rectify a dying scene.

A phone rings constantly of country music,
but no one talks on the other line called love,
His words are empty and broken like a
Johnny Cash song made live and it
"Hurts" to feel the same way right now.

The tears won't dry, the home-on-the-range
forever drowns in a sea of crystal snowflakes;
melting all the memories as the snow falls,
And her weary eyes stare through the paned glass,
Holding a picture of false hopes and dreams.

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