candll.gif (1954 bytes)candlr.gif (1946 bytes)LOST TO THE BOSS

 

 

 
I have spent the last few days in a close-by bar,
Hoping to find answers that have been elusive thus far.

But as I overheard the drunks while they drank and spoke,
My eyes filled with tears and I pretended it was just the smoke.

They talked of their jobs and they talked about their cars,
They snickered about their wives never really knowing where they are.

They were concerned only about enough money to buy one more beer,
Families forgotten, the possibility of being arrested for DUI, seemed
their
only fear.

As they laughed like children playing out in the rain,
It was all I could do not to scream at them and tell them about my pain.

You see, my husband left his family, to join this wasted gang,
Leaving his responsibilities behind him, closing the door with a bang.

I have gone sleepless and cried more than he will ever know,
Memories of another life, and a once brilliant man, is all that I have to
show.

I remember all of his past concern, then I try to comprehend this loss,
I realize it is impossible, Because I was given no choice, his bottle is
the
boss.

He says he still loves us, but home is where he will never again stay,
Somehow after listening in those bars, he really means we were in his way.

Home is a responsibility, a family that needs and loves you,
But you can't be part of a home, if your too drunk to even find your shoe.

I have given every possible offer; a woman in true love would make,
If she realized that her husband's life or; another's, was what was really
at stake.

All my offers have been refused, no matter how non-restrictive or sincere,
The only answer I can find is that the beloved bottle evokes entirely too
much fear.

Fear of disappointing, fear of responsibility, when what he wants is
another
beer.
I hope one day I will understand such waste and loss, but for now, I will
cry another tear.

By: Debbie Wilson
        2-2-99