Their voices call to me <br />Old friends whispering <br />pleading and entreating <br />Their siren song <br />lures me back <br />to the rocks… <br /> <br />And neat too <br />and of course straight up <br />ice cold <br />gin <br />(how I loved that smell) <br />lukewarm beer <br />and cheap red wine <br /> <br />You never wanted <br />the credit, <br />you didn’t want to <br />hear I did it <br />all for <br />you… <br />You, not me. <br /> <br />I was happy <br />in my sadness. <br />I loved <br />that sweet glow, <br />took comfort <br />in my <br />sweet blurred <br />pain <br /> <br />So <br />it’s only fair, <br />don’t <br />blame <br />yourself now. <br /> <br />(As if you would <br />or ever did) <br /> <br /> <br />(9/21/05)<br /><br />Richard Quinby<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/chimera/
