It stared out through to the den of sin, forehead pressed against glass in vain, strangers beyond
looking to be entertained, finding nothing more than a belly of gin.
Trapped watching the arrival of a horde Red eye focused,
burning and bleary its' company
gone to make a query
soaking in sorrow,
it tried not
to appear
bored. Its'
companion
arrived
with
the
violin,
And he grabbed
the glass with a look of disdain, tossed the martini
back to drown the discord while the olive screamed at his fate, so dreary.
YOU ARE READING
Juvenilia ✔/ a Nonfiction Undergraduate University Collection
Non-FictionA collection of poems, essays, seminars, and other miscellaneous papers from my Undergraduate Degree in English Literature with a concentration in Creative Writing and minors in Classical History and Publishing. ju·ve·nil·i·a noun 1. works produced...
