Observations in a Boozer

Bloodshot eyes peer out
From under a faded baseball cap,
While shaky hands can only be stilled
By cuddling his glass.
Then like a fisherman’s nets
He casts out words
Trying to snare a conversation,
But the bait is poor
And nothing bites.
So he turns back to
His intense contemplation
Of the charity collection tin.
Drink finished and glass slammed down
He gives a goodbye both
Muffled and ignored
And he’s gone.


I visited a new pub on the way home from work last night and spotted the man who inspired this poem propping the bar up.  The poem itself is my idea of what this chaps character is, I didn’t speak to him and for all I know this might be a complete character assassination ?

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