THE RUNAWAY
Written by: Barry P. Foley Copyright © 06 July 2009
It was a slow Tuesday night, so at two, I closed the bar As I locked up the back door, saw her sitting on the hood of my car Drinking wine from a paper bag, like she had something to hide Barely looked up at me, when I offered a ride
When I asked where she was going, she just turned her head So I drove to an all night diner, for coffee instead She started asking me questions, waiting on the coffee to come What was my name, where was I from
Bridge: But when the tables turned, she started acting strange Changing the subject, avoiding the question, never revealing her name I judged her to be about 16, it’s hard to say My bartender’s guess, told me she’s a runaway
Then I put it to her straight, “where you gonna sleep tonight” Again she avoided the question, proving my guess was right I told her sleep on my couch, it’s somewhere warm and safe Against my better judgment, we left the diner for my place
2nd Bridge I woke up around ten, sensed that I was alone She left somewhere in the night, my old Navy picture was gone There on the kitchen table was a note, scribbled on a pad Said “Thanks for the coffee, it was sure nice…. to meet my Dad”
TAG: Thanks for the coffee, it was nice………..to finally meet my Dad
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