Your Poetry Dot Com - The Friends

He sits in silence,
Tail gate down,
Smoking a cigarrette,
Waiting for her to come out of the restaurant.
When he sees the door open he smiles,
Gets up, and heads that way,
He knows that she's afraid
To walk alone in the dark.
He walks her to her car, and his truck,
As always, parked side by side.
They could sit and talk for hours
But it's getting late
So thirty minutes is normally all they get to chat.
Staring up into the twilight
Watching cars whiz by,
They talk about lost loves, homework assignments,
Fights with parents,
He holds her when she needs to cry.
She takes a drag or two off of his cigarrette,
Her "fix" for the night,
She doesn't smoke, just with him
It seems to be all right.
She swings her legs back and forth
While she sits on the tailgate,
Everytime a subject comes up that
Seems to agitate her.
He throws an arm over her shoulder,
Listens quietly,
And gently and surprisingly,
It always calms her down.
He's the silent one.
Her reading his moods like his emotions were all written on his sleeve,
But they aren't, they are tucked deep inside
And every one she works with wonders how she does it.
They brighten up each other's lives
Giving each other all they have to give,
Their hearts, and their ears,
And for that thirty minutes on that tailgate
Of an old beat-up truck,
Everything is right in the world.

This poem is Copyright © ginsdance