The Drunkard’s Day

Each morning I wake to the sound and grace

Of the birds chirping away innumerable days

With their sound giving rise to light

While the coffee simmers in the boiling pot

And the aroma creates words that guide

Till the day brings the gloom, usually by afternoon

Pealing away the smiles & shining the pain

Of a lost lover, long dead & insane

And the piercing lights pass me by

I follow to go on

The windy days a masquerade

To the evening that will last long

The night begins and brings within

The darkness of lies, deceit & sin,

So I drink, till the bottom of the brink

Of the bottle that can hide my sorrow

Though, I sleep & fade away, knowing somewhat

That there will, hopefully, be a tomorrow.

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