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THE RUNAWAY
Written by: Barry P. Foley
Copyright © 06 July 2009

It was a slow Tuesday night, so at two, I closed the bar
As I locked up the back door, saw her sitting on the hood of my car
Drinking wine from a paper bag, like she had something to hide
Barely looked up at me, when I offered a ride

When I asked where she was going, she just turned her head
So I drove to an all-night diner, for coffee instead
She started asking me questions, waiting on the coffee to come
What was my name, where was I from

Bridge:
But when the tables turned, she started acting strange
Changing the subject, avoiding the question, never revealing her name
I judged her to be about 16, it’s hard to say
My bartender’s guess, told me she’s a runaway

Then I put it to her straight, “where you gonna sleep tonight”
Again she avoided the question, proving my guess was right
I told her sleep on my couch, it’s somewhere warm and safe
Against my better judgment, we left the diner for my place

2nd Bridge
I woke up around ten, sensed that I was alone
She left somewhere in the night, my old Navy picture was gone
There on the kitchen table was a note, scribbled on a pad
Said “Thanks for the coffee, it was sure nice…. to meet my Dad”

TAG:  Thanks for the coffee, it was nice……to finally meet my Dad
 

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