Johnny Walker Dead Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

He was sobering, just enough
to remember the bright lights,
and audience he'd delivered
just some hours ago, or longer?
And in his bed now, he can dream
all about his evening, center stage
till morning next, when migraine
becomes his dark reality.

No spot lights, no stage be here,
just the eerie sound of sirens
echoing thru his fifth floor wall,
his migraine quickly taking toll
to the flashing red lights casting-
a disturbing reflection of death,
and a woman with an infant child,
a broken bottle neck of Johnny Red.

Time never changes unlike judgment,
living one day to the next in hopes
that there be a many good days ahead,
yet time defers it all to judgment,
and every decision meets consequence;
a woman and her infant, ran out of days,
the night before when judgment failed-
in favor of a night of drunken driving.

FjR-MMXVII