I can pour my own glass
nice of you to ask
but the jukebox breaks my heart
I think my hair
is losing me
and the bar is getting taller
time is getting smaller
all that matters is the tick of the clock
though I can't hear it
stealthily stealing seconds
over that damned jukebox!
This Poem is Wasted
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comments:
this is a favorite, definitely. It's so quietly expressive.
Post a Comment