Yellow Roof

On thick clay tiles lay a man

A yellow sea in a far away land

Watching the sea he looks at the sky

A flock of birds descend and then goes high

He relaxes his thoughts reaching for a beer

The ships look tired as they draw near

He sips and shoos the buzzing of a fly

He wants a job but knows it’s a lie

The air is moist with beer and salt

A Hemingway afternoon down to a fault

On the beach two girls bathe in the surf

A man is selling fish knowing their worth

The trouble began in a much younger life

He used to have children, a home and a wife

Now only a saloon, a bed and the roof

He used to exist but now there’s no proof

But inside him there stirs a new sound

Maybe tomorrow from this roof I’ll come down

But until then I’ll drink and I’ll sleep

Yesterday’s gone and not even the angels will weep

Page 166 Cowboys and Witches by John K Bucher

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