THE WRONG BOOTH
Innocently he walks in, a quiet night,
His thoughts are of the moment, he sits.
A cup of coffee as his eyes wander this place,
He is not comfortable as he watches those around.
There is little sound as he rests his weary mind,
Eyes are upon him but he will not understand why.
Approached by one he does not know, he reacts quickly,
Injured as he runs away, the wrong booth he found today.
Keith Garrett
Nice poem. Definitely had one of those kind of moments.
What a cliffhanger, just leaves you hanging.
Thanks for reading.
On Mon, Nov 18, 2019 at 10:36 AM keithgarrettpoetry wrote:
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Lovely poem…I think we can all relate to that feeling that we are in the wrong place, that we do not belong here…you’ve captured that image perfectly. Greatly enjoy reading your work. All the best, and my greetings from Valencia, Spain
Spain is a long way from dried out CA. thanks for reading.
You are welcome!