Twenty five years gone

Twenty five years gone, around the corner,
It was still there, same place, same tattered stool.
The ROCKOLA, George Jones,
Willy and Waylon and the boys.

Yellow permanently nicotine stained mirror hung,
reflecting the now much older man.
The old nag back shelf still bearing,
the weight of the top shelf liquor.

Twenty five years gone, Duct tape held booth
and the table notched with true loves, names.
Where I met so many, kissed and danced.
For a chance to feel her tender breast.

Do you remember the place that stole the hours,
Pool table, drinks urine stained restroom floor?
The bull from the elder gents, that some how
made perfect sense to my youthful ear.

Twenty five years gone, the bartenders last call,
"You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here".
Clinging to eachother to keep from falling down,
The stumble home, a few hrs 'til the light of sunrise.

The place is still there, the process the same.
A comfortable feeling, a killing of time.
Stories of yesterdays glory,
Twenty five years gone. ......