Rik George writes

Homeward Bound

Winter moon, watch over me. 
Shadows stalk the feeble streetlights. 
The whispering wind has snow on its breath. 
Long hours in smoky bars behind me, 
waiting for Mr. Right to show. 
I’m going home alone, again. 
Watch me, waning winter moon, 
between the bar and my empty room.
The Trapper -- Rockwell Kent