Hustler

And as the celluloid reels through her brain

She needs you in the thunder and the rain

As she throws her stockings on the chair

She knows your image is imprinted there

And when the daylight comes

Illusions are no more; truth becomes

A focal point in time

As he slips away from the perfect crime

When she picks up her earnings

She can’t forget those yearnings

And looks at that old chair

With your image imprinted there

All alone again

Your image; her guardian

But then in a little while

Her love will stand trial

As another slips in through the door

And she performs her chore

It’s been four years since he died

And her heart stopped love inside

But even in her deepest, darkest despair

His image remains in that chair

© Andrea Coltman