The Shrine Of Decline Poem by John Duffy

(Alone voice whispers)

Within whiskey filled nights with a lonely cigarette alight

I always slowly sip malt liquor and think of you

From the first day, we met that smiling old vicar

To all those crazy nights we used to argue and bicker

And as the golden hue fills the deep shadows of this old room

As the moonlight dances like familiar lovers around my ever-rising smoke

I still miss your voice
as time passes and memories flicker

A gift or a curse some might say

Tainted with the
Devil's masterstroke

From downbeat days
to euphoric sensuous nights

You were always worth the risks

And as I sip and remember all those highlights

As I sit and slowly watch star-filled nights

These memories of gold conquering the creeping cold

From childhood to adulthood

You were all mine

My baseline
Chalk line

But always my own Shrine Of Decline

But still, I remember and still, I ride

Sometimes there are things in life that always come back

No matter how hard you deny it

Or where you hide

With me, it's cigarettes and twenty-five-year-old malt whiskey

They always help when these old faded blue eyes go misty

When I reach that old familiar place inside

Where I stand naked before this old line

Which always whispers

Does she miss me

Copyright John Duffy