Half empty, half dead
the bottle’s been bled
relieved of it’s spirit
like one who instead
succumbs to the dread
and lies without purpose
alone in her bed
her apron strings shed
half empty, half dead.
Are You Reading Me?
Are You Reading Me?
so that was you peeking in my window last night!!!!! wholly moelly i thought you had written this specifically for me!!!!!
ReplyDeleteHey, this has almost a Nursery Rhyme feeling to it. And, stop looking in Paisley's windows...shame on you! LOL
ReplyDeletelovely. Your rhyming skills are... off the chain. :)
ReplyDeletealcoholism is one of the greatest banes of human existence
ReplyDeleteYou can say that again! And I think we've all lived with it in one way or another. Luckily, it is also something that can be cured.
ReplyDeleteGreat poem, Bob. As I read it a second time I can feel the woman's spirit 'draining' as well as the bottle.
ReplyDeleteHi Dan, that't true, not to mention how emotionally draining it is for those that love her as well, thanks for stopping by.
ReplyDelete