An elderly gentleman makes his way into a smoky room <br />He sees many familiar faces some with smiles others with doom <br />Nods his head to his once favorite waitress a nod she returns <br />Everyday for many years he’s drank the same thing, a double shot JD, long neck bud to chase the burn <br />A smile comes to his eyes when he catches sight of his empty favorite chair <br />Wasn’t but a few days prior he had to explain its ownership to a young punk that didn’t care <br />Sliding the chair back and neatly placing his jacket <br />He slowly observes the room thinking quieter today a lot less racket <br />From his pocket he pulls his chips he has allotted himself for today <br />Retired now living on a fixed income he has to budget his funds in many ways <br />Looking back when he was younger he recalls moments found using weighted dice <br />Now with withered shaky hands not fast enough but in his prime he wouldn’t have thought twice <br />Before he knows it he’s out of drink and today’s funds <br />Tips his waitress and the table puts on his jacket and thanks everyone <br />Pushes in his chair fixes his collar making his way to the door <br />Disappears into thin air as the waitress whispers “We have so missed you Mr. Moore” <br /> <br />By: PennyL.Poore 2008<br /><br />Penny L. Poore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mr-moore/
