Foxworth Poetry (1)

He sat stiffly at
the end of the bar.
His face sagging and
covered with scars.

He thought back on why
he was at this place.
That fair young lady
covered in satin and lace.

He asked the bartender
for another drink.
Maybe one more shot
would help him think.

She wanted a strong hero
fresh from the war.
But, she had no idea
just what was in store.

She not only got the
strong man she had seen.
She got his burdens of war,
which was like a bad dream.

The sleepless nights and
shadows always in the corner.
She found that this hero
was destined to be a loner.

One night she was gone,
a feather in the wind.
So, he headed to the bar
to let the drinking begin.