Poems ✍️

He called yesterday morning,
come have a drink with me.
Meet me at the Border Crossing
down the street.
I agreed to go,
so many reasons you see.
He was an old friends son,
she left behind in misery.
We never know,
what's on the road ahead.
Sometimes we fall hard
when those we love are dead.
There he was, a disheveled mess,
almost unrecognizable,
though that smile never changed.
I looked real close and I could see,
that once little boy smiling up at me.
Sitting on the back steps
so sad and blue.
That drunken slur wasn't something new.
O I've heard it before,
from a woman I loved.
History can repeat itself,
when one walks through the door.
His mama died in a drunken haze,
and the son lives trudging in a maze.
I remember the day, that last telephone call.
Come have a drink with me,
yes that's what she said.
I'll come tomorrow, I promise I will
but tomorrow never came,
it wasn't God's will.
My friend was found dead,
sitting at her kitchen table,
a picture of her dad, a glass of vodka too.
The need to be high, was all she knew.
I grabbed hold of her son,
gave him the tightest hug.
I pray this is not the end, I'm growing weary,
saying good-bye to old friends.

Written by: Melvina Germain
Date: Dec.23/2014