STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL

They say it takes one to know one
And I know one
Although how we found each other
Is a mystery to me.
I seem to remember it was in a pub
Over Sunday lunchtime pints
She pulling and me pouring
Both of us engaged in conversation of a somewhat highbrow nature
If the looks from the locals were anything to go by,
Although to us it seemed perfectly ordinary because after all,
Without art and literature what is life?
Except for a crowded bar full of lonely people
Drinking too much and talking too loud
While trying to convince themselves that their lives have some meaning,
Although meaning, like beauty, is always in the eye of the beholder
The property of the reader not of the writer,
Although if I’m honest
I know the cost of the drinks were far outweighed by the value of her company.
So, in moments of quiet reflection,
I often find myself back in that bar,
With the sunlight streaming through the windows and the dust dirty dancing in the hot tepid air as lost souls slowly turned into ghosts,
Now long gone in the relentless march of time, a victim of progress,
Of social engineering and economic downturns,
And my thoughts turn to the one who served me drinks
Which quenched my thirst yet fuelled the fire in my soul
And how, without ever really knowing, she inspired and motivated,
And made my Sunday’s a truly religious experience.
So this is my way of saying thanks,
Because I never did at the time,
Although I’ll always be thankful for the girl
Who fed a hungry mind.