Pool Hall

Beneath the glow of neon light,
In shadows thick and corners tight,
The pool hall hums with muffled sound,
Where smoky air and dreams abound.

Faded felt on battered slate,
Where strangers meet and seal their fate;
A crack of cue, a soft-ball roll,
A fleeting glimpse of fortune’s goal.

Lines are drawn, the chalk is spun,
Each shot a tale of battles won.
The hustler smiles, his calm disguise,
Concealing schemes behind sharp eyes.

The jukebox croons a song from years,
That mingles with the clink of beers.
Stories shared and rivalries born,
Last long beyond the coming morn.

This sacred space of cue and play,
Where night turns into endless day,
Is more than games, more than a hall—
It’s life reflected in a ball.