The clinks of bottled glass,
Laughter was full of carried cheer.
Deep meaningless words are passed.
None at all would he hear.
He sits in a dreary corner,
With a small shot at hand.
No one seems to his border,
Just listening to an Irish band.
At a glance, you would see,
A fine man that was spent.
And quickly think, 'What a sad person to be.'
While in his reality: for now everything is content.
Drinking a liquid of bittersweetness,
All worries are swept away.
No more shall he feel loneliness.
Not until the dawn brings day.
Without nothing to lose,
That's when the spent penny drops.
For nothing to lose, there is only you
And the drowning of drink cannot stop.
YOU ARE READING
Playing With Words
PoetryHello! Thank you for clicking on my collection, means a lot. Some of these poems are trying to imagine oneself in another person's shoes, others I have lovingly or painfully experienced to some extent... however all of them come a place of curiosity...
