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Ripples
Sitting in the corner watching ripples in my beer
I blink away the wetness but those ripples reappear
This used to be our corner and my grin was ear to ear
But now I sit alone here watching ripples in my beer
Was it careful scheming, did it happen on a whim
And if it had to happen did it have to be with him
My trusted wife and one true friend; our little group drank here
But now it’s only me that sees the ripples in my beer
A microwave, a meal for one, an armchair for a bed
Cannot entice me from this place I now call home instead
I should confront the barman for he still puts three seats here
But I don’t wish to advertise the ripples in my beer
I know I must accept that soon they’ll tell me I must leave
The world will not adjust its diary just cos people grieve
Thankfully the place I once called home is fairly near
So I’ll spend these last moments watching ripples in my beer
I’ll slump into my armchair once I’ve laid her supper out
And dream that I awake to hear her footsteps move about
I know I’m slightly squiffy but my insight now is clear
If I drink up there won’t be any ripples in my beer
My wife can take that slimy toad and crawl under a log
They can have each other if they just return my dog
My sidekick and my kemosabe, she was ever near
Without my dog here at my feet, there’s ripples in my beer.
Copyright ©
Terry Flood
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