Lone visitor, a clown,
Left to own devices
On a street of vices.
An unfamiliar town.

Enticed as music woos,
Sway in time with the beat.
Too chilled to go and eat,
Perfect night for the blues.

To leave, it seems too soon.
Cars go by with whishes
To the clink of dishes,
By the light of the moon.

Restless nights; a strange bed,
Dubious caffeine fix
Is no help as time ticks.
Pleased to go home instead.

(c) Robert Jones 2014, All Rights Reserved