Black silken hair
Like ravens
At midnight
Glistened with
Shiny bits
Stars frozen
In earthly horizons
In the mantle
Of the Goddess
Of the Night
Life…
Tavern Lass
In disguise.
Sir William
Voice of depths
Even though
All he gets
Is the empty
Glass…
Long nights
Shorter tempers
And a lone
Friend at
The end of his
Nights
A family
Asleep dreaming
Of a husband
Who works
Too hard
For the
Grief
He gets…
He is a true
Noble..
In disguise.
Still others
Are not so
Hidden
Tavern brawlers
Brutal in
Their stupor
Of ignorance
Drowned in
The special of
The night,
There is no
Depth there…
They piss away
Paychecks
And kill time
With unused
Brain cells.
Not everyone's
That way…
Some are just
Good folk…
A nightcap
After work
And before
Bed…
So long as
People are involved
There are
Politics
And a waitress
Who whines
Often finds
Herself
With bad hours
And lost
Opportunities
Never knowing
Why it
Didn't work out.
So beautiful
So young…
Here life is
Rough
And brutally
Unmerciful.
Modern jukebox
Wails its cries
And off tune
Singers belt
Out lines
Beneath white,
Blue and orange
Neon lights…
While the smell
Of spilled beer
Seeps into everyone's
Clothes…
And deeper
Into those
That have been
Here for years
But would have
Never guessed then
That they would
Never leave…
Tavern tales
Of lovers who
Met on that
Very barstool
Seven years ago
Took them
Long enough
As they stagger
Out tonight
To make love.
Come out
To the tavern
Tonight
Pull up a chair
Have a drink
And come
Or go…
The Tavern
Tales
Will go
On.