PoetryPause Blog – Matthew Ashbrook

Archive for April, 2018

Corner Pocket

by on Apr.29, 2018, under Poetry

The musty scent of an old pool hall,
Where smoke still hangs in the air and all;
The fabric worn from the table tops
By years of use and pool hall props.

Where rough-hewn men would wield the cues,
The corner juke-box boomed the blues
And blue jeaned girls in halter tops
Nursed the beverage brewed from hops.

The faded posters, parched and dry,
Reflect the time of times gone by;
Farah Fawcett, Indian bikes
Long before the friends and likes.

An ancient pack of Marlboros sits
Upon the counter where time quits;
Yellowed now like those who smoked
The cancer sticks that smokers choked.

Remnants of the seasons passed,
Preserved in dust like sculptures cast;
The juke box silent like a muse
Still can fill a room with blues.

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