In The Morning

She was going down to the water,

in the pale blue morning light.

There were snakes all around her,

and the birds were taking flight.


Now, the flowers on the gravestone,

first wilt and then they die.

But the money in your pocket,

Will get you drunk for the night.


Now you're rolling down the alleys,

In a place you've never been. 

And you're hoping in the morning,

You'll be back in your bed again.


She as working as a waitress,

with a falter in her smile.

Now she's waiting at the bus stop,

bathed in the yellow street light.


He told her that he loved her,

and he said they'd be alright.

But money doesn't last forever,

so he ran in the middle of the night.


Now he's rolling down the alleys,

In a place he's never been.

And she's hoping in the morning, 

He'll be back in her bed again.



  • little dove

    I like this. I like your use of rhyming in this poem and it also flows very well. Some nice images as well

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