Empty Bottle

Empty bottle
standing
near the wall.

Fine whisky
dripping
from a tray.

He used to be
the man of the day;
money to spend,
no willing hand to lend. 

Mocking people 
like a fool,
roars of laughter
like a wild mare.

But now the tide has turned
his riches, gone and burned,
an impotent
forever bent.

An empty man
under the sun
all alone,
like that empty bottle
near the wall.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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