The Anchor

photo credit: Stephan Geyer The Night Keeps Coming In | 134.365 via photopin (license)

‘She gives me a dirty look’
Said the voice across the bar.
It’s a cacophony of attitudes here
A belligerent, bubbling torment of sound.
Snatches of booze-soaked revelry
Rising up, rebelling against the breeze –
That rides in through the opening door
Chilling us around the knees.
I look up, catch a glimpse
Of harsh February’s march in time
Before the door slams itself shut.
Something about the darkness
Makes me think
That we’ll have frost tonight.
I down the dregs
And shake the glass,
Making the universal symbol.
You nod,
Yes we’re staying put
At least for one more pint.
 
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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