Stepping Away Poem by Matt Mooney

Using pints for punctuation,
Farming friends around him,
Holding earthy conversations:
Man to man discussions
On someone's lock of cattle
Or a lovely score of lambs.

Turning his back to the bar,
Measuring his every step,
He employs a walking stick
To aid his disappearance;
Exiting black swing doors,
Writing off another night.

In good humour going home,
Unconscious of the loneliness
Of the silent sleeping village,
He sits into my waiting car
And we leave the streetlamps
To the phantoms of the night.