The Lady at the End of the Bar

She isn't wearing an above the knee green suit,
the woman seated at the end of the bar
turned slightly to see Monterey Bay out the far window.
But for some reason he sees her that way.
She's wearing beige walking shorts and a milk chocolate top
with the word Maui embossed across her chest.
She isn't really wearing matching heels either, though he sees them on her.
But her hair really is blond and curly and she is very well endowed.
She has worn that gold collar around her neck the entire weekend.
She's sweet, beautiful, serene and she's with a man sipping Absolut.
She doesn't appear to mind that he is in love with her.
Their conversation is of spiritual matters, philosophies, and family.
Now and then they laugh together as if they had been intimate and could be so again.
Her voice is as clear and pure as the ringing of a fine crystal wine
glass moistened at the lip and spun on the fingertip.
She isn't wearing green, nor a suit, nor heels but that's how he sees
her, this man sitting beside her sipping Absolut; its how he will
remember her that afternoon as she sat at the end of the bar in Monterey
looking out the window over the Bay.

Ronald Haun

If you've any comments on this poem, Ronald Haun would be pleased to hear from you.

{short description of image}