Bluesday Afternoon
Coffee in the morning
It’s a blues-day afternoon.
As I sit here remembering,
I see her reflection in my spoon.
She always sits alone.
The girl with no name
Alone with her excuses
Convinced that she’s to blame.
Music from the speakers
Fall deaf upon her ears.
Silent are the screams
That no one else can hear.
Unmistakable is her sadness
As are her black and blues.
I was once this very girl
A fragile shell with cracks to glue.
Coffee in the morning
It’s a blues-day afternoon.
I can't seem to turn away
From her reflection in my spoon.
She hangs her head within her hands
And trembles with a sigh.
Silently trying to hide her tears
Wiping her eyes as she cries.
I sit, feeling so useless
For I know her every thought.
So hard have been her lessons
In a life that can’t be taught.
I was looking at a portrait
Made with broken glass.
Shattered slivers of an image
From my own forgotten past.
She looks and sees me staring
And tries to force a smile.
But the pain I saw upon her face
Could be seen for a thousand miles.
Her fear is like an ocean
After the storm has come and gone.
She was so desperate for a answer
Of how her life had gone so wrong.
She’s afraid of the thunder
For it always takes its toll.
Its clear the storms of yesterday
Have broken her gentle soul.
Coffee in the morning
It’s a blues-day afternoon.
I see my reflection
At a table across the room.
