Variations On Variations
Of the public house,
I know nothing;
nothing of the
chipped walls and
clambering jazz,
or the joy that
washes over
everything like a
spilled drink
..only that there is
a girl, perhaps a
thousand miles away,
sitting at the same
table, while I am
alone in a bar
watching August fade
into an empty cup
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
