Sandy's Place

Sandy’s place always smelled of apple pie.

When you’d leave

the smell would trail you down the street.

As I passed old Sandy’s place

long since closed (she’d passed away)

I saw the gutter overflowed with leaves.

Down the street past Sandy’s place

I looked up, just beyond the streetlight

Towards the tower where I used to work all day.

Just beyond that old brick tower

Was the place where the town’s souls rest

The same place were Sandy’s coffin rests today.

I continued down the street

As a courier passed me

I wondered what message he might deliver.

I didn’t think too long

As I slipped into the local bar

It was so dank and dreary that it made me shiver.

I had a beer. I had one shot.

A group played pool in the far corner.

I drank to the loss of days gone by.

Those days are never truly lost

As I could never possibly forget how

Sandy’s place always smelled of apple pie.

DizzyDezzi (c) 2016