winter's choice

for all the times
you have wandered
into a place so lonely
you have wondered
how many have wandered in here
in search of a drink
like you have

this is the place though
in that hard to find part
of downtown
where you wind up
to have the last beer of the night

this is the place where
if you listen
to what is going on around
you might hear the stories
of a guitar player
singing like it's just another tuesday night
you might hear him call up another friend
to play the guitar

the words and songs are enough
to make you stop the ticking for a moment
think about all the people up in their beds
hearing the solitary scraping of snow plows
in the empty streets
when winter makes it's choice

can the cold and snow account for the half-empty room
for those missing the dedication it takes
to play the guitar
work the tendons in one's hands
till they flutter like a bird
appearing like a nest you never noticed

winter is the last song
blowing it's long last breath
and walking off the stage before it's finished