It might be high-noon bright on your skin
when in a flash and with a start
you realize it’s midnight in your heart—
I sure hope the stars will do their part.
You might be standing firmly alone
in sight of the next train out of town
then, at the first slight slip
into unconsciousness, the first
dozing dip into drifting off,
your whole world shifts
and your eyelids lift
to spouse and kids
bringing you home
with a flower for each
year you’ll never again spend on your own.
You may have a career
and on payday go out to have a beer
and drink to being in the clear
when with a sputter and a lurch,
say, you find yourself begging drunk in a gutter
just pray they pass not with a sickened shudder
but with a smile of sympathy to send them
on their sobered and newly steady way.
It might be high-noon bright on your skin
when in a flash and with a start
you realize it’s midnight in your heart—
I sure hope the stars will do their part.
