Sycamore Lane

Deep and dark, the atmosphere
Laden eyes drift between time and space
Unvoiced souls float on bluesy waves
A melancholic ambiance infused in this place

Reality slipped into the distance
Checked, like a coat the door
Dim lights illumine chairs of leather
Casting shadows upon a parquet floor

A pair of tables had opened
Besides the long wooden bar
To the left; ladies sipping merlot
To the right; men lighting cigars

The empty bottles were cleared
A napkin now lay in their stead
"Welcome to Sycamore Lane", said the barkeep
"Take a seat and clear your head"

Within a moment's time
The solo daydream awakened
A soft voice whispered gently
"Sir, is this seat taken?"

Her face, a cordial welcome
Physique wrapped in satin dress
Hair like beams of a scarlet moon
Poise of a princess, bearing utmost finesse

Words had no calling
She spoke with the gleam in her eyes
Instilled by heavenly beauty
His silence came as no surprise

She set down her glass one final time
Where it went, he never did see
It vanished into the dark, still air
A lurid intimation of what was to be

Her splendor had slowly faded
Giving way to a face struck with sorrow
She shyly reached to his breast pocket
For the pen that she would borrow

A blink of an eye; suddenly she was gone
He searched, but was no where in sight
Left only the words scribbled on a napkin...
"All things pass... into the night."

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Taken from a dream I had last night.