Let me get you a drink;
that is all I can do.
With a sigh, let us think,
in the dark, with the brew.
It's our game from the start,
in the blood of our night.
Through the mist, from the heart,
in the grave—made it right.
Through the years, on the way,
for a friend, for a bit.
At the end of the day,
on the fence, we should sit.
An anapestic poem written for dVerse – Meet The Bar. Possibly, not quite a ballad…
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
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