Poetry – Weathered frets

Weathered frets

I don’t know how it ended here,

The last puff of a cigarette, 

The final swig of stale beer,

I don’t know why the end is near. 


I don’t know when the light will come,

The death throes of the latest bet,

The burning dregs of wasted rum,

I don’t know why I’ve come undone. 


I don’t know how to stop the night.

Eternal black of old regrets,

The tangled mess of fallen kites,

I don’t know how to win this fight. 


And if my heart should beat again,

The tune played out on weathered frets,

I’ll dance a jig till this song ends,

And kiss you gently, dearest friend.



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