A Silver Memory-B

12 | P a g e
when the lights go out, and the night grows cold.
For every night at a pub,
I see her, the girl with the beautiful eyes,
and I know that she’s more than just
the drinks and the dance, the shouts and the tears.
She’s a mystery, a wonder,
and I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
She works in a post office, a place of mundane tasks,
Sorting letters, delivering mail, a routine she fulfills.
But there’s a spark in her eyes, a light that shines bright,
A warmth in her smile, that touches all who she meets.
I visit her sometimes, to catch up on night life’s tales,
Sharing stories of the night’s mysterious veil.
She laughs and says “Really?”,
Her laughter like music, an enchanting score.
In the evening, I see her by the beach, jogging with grace,
A silhouette against the sunset’s golden rays.
Her feet pound the sand, a rhythm of her heart,
A warrior from the start.
And as the sun dips below the horizon, she appears again,
A fairy fish, dancing away into the depths of the pub.
The day is done, and the night comes calling,
I see her smile, her laughter, her light never falling.
And then the dark midnight.