The Jacaranda Tree

I woke in the early hours to find

My head between her thighs,

She hadn’t been there before, I swear

And I’m not a man who lies.

I’d seen her out in the Public Bar

Of the ‘Jacaranda Tree’,

Halfway along the Outback Track

On the way to Wendouree.

I’d seen her dance on the table tops

I’d seen her prance on the bar,

I’d said to Lance as I saw him glance

‘I don’t know where we are!’

He shrugged, to say that he didn’t care

As long as she danced that way,

Her stockings, down at her ankles and

Her skirt in disarray.

‘Now there is a wench to turn your head,’

Said Lance, with a burst of pride,

He’d been out on the verandah, then

He’d turned to go back inside,

She’d joined him there for a moment,

Just brushed by for a quick connect,

But he hadn’t noticed her eyebrow raised

In a sign that said, ‘Reject!’

We both had our eighteen wheelers parked

Outside in the hotel grounds,

I was headed away up north

And he to the lights of town,

He offered to give her the sleeper cab

While he drove the star-filled night,

I looked away and I thought it sad,

But the trucks both looked alike.

I heard him leave at the midnight hour

And thought she was gone for good,

It wasn’t often I hauled this way

Or stayed in this neighbourhood.

But then I clambered into my bunk

Above, at the cabin’s rear,

And fell asleep like a hopeless drunk

Till the morning sun drew near.

I made an offer to buy that pub,

The ‘Jacaranda Tree’,

But only when she agreed to stay

And dance on the bar for me,

I asked if she’d meant to go with Lance

And she looked at me with scorn,

I sleep the sleep of a new romance

And the pillows keep me warm.

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[emmajoy]

'He shrugged, to say that he didn’t care -- As long as she danced that way, -- Her stockings, down at her ankles and -- Her skirt in disarray.'

Not as spooky as most you write, a change in tone for you, but the feeling's there for the passer-by, for the tale is bound to be true! Sorry, your writing left me reeling!

A change of pace and thought-in-motion here: raunchy riggers and a woman with her skirt in dis.array.. all in first class meter and an atmosphere to match. There might be a touch of the naughty in this, but iit's old-fashioned outback truth: men on the road, stopping here, there.. and finding a little or more, much more.. comfort. Good words, fine rhyming.. characters one could clearly see.

[Coyote Poetry]

A wonderful tale my friend.
"I sleep the sleep of a new romance
And the pillows keep me warm."
I was a wanderer for 37 years. I liked those dancers and free-bounded people. I like the ending to the amazing story in the poem.
Coyote

[ANTO]

It didn't matter if she did mean to go with Lance for there are such free spirits out there - i have seen lol. But they always have a very small circle of people in their hearts and I like to think that the narrator was in her heart (and sharing a bed too).
This is a welcome deviation DLP from you. The truck stop, the rough-house, the woman who communicates with bare-more than an eyebrow. All master poetry. !! Bravo my friend.