An Evening of Blues By Wayne Hebb

 The lead guitar

Picks out the 

Slow blues from

The jukebox as

He sits in the 

Corner cuddled by

Shadows

His weathered hands

Holding whiskey

In a dirty glass

Sighing he touches the

Wrinkles on his cheek

Left by years of smoking

Cigarettes and cheap cigars

His hair cast

Across his forehead 

In a sorry attempt 

To hide his 

Baldness and a

Crumpled leather

Jacket hid a

Crumpled frame

Taking another sip 

He lets the whiskey and

The lonely music 

Ease his tortured 

soul

Wayne Hebb is a retired RCMP officer living in St. John’s, NL, Canada with his wife of 50 years. He enjoys writing poetry, short stories, creative nonfiction, and novels.  Several of his poems have been published in Verse-Virtual, The Dark Poets Society, The Horseshoe Literary Magazine and The Galway Review.