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Be


If you don’t like where you are, then stride on over to the bartender and ask him kindly to tell you a tale, pour one out like whiskey rolling across the ice, like Love's lungful swimming in your veins, the man behind the bar will bring you round to laughter and to realizing where you are. He’s the man behind the bar -so to speak and speak to sow what to your lips, the genie lays you down to peace. Now go.

Behind the bar, the tap room of affections, she, that holds our sorrows, reaches back our glee and slings it to the stars- Yet still, she sees our love as on its way back, so we can be. Remain. Just be. Last call…


© 2011 by mark prime

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