I’m just sitting around
Garth Brooks singing
about friends in low places
he could be singing about me
the beer was cold before
now it’s the temperature
of mother milk
I’m just sitting around
the evening creeping up on me
quietly, stealthy
just like death
I don’t care
there is neither
fright nor sorrow
I’m just sitting around
waiting
what for I don’t know
I’m too young to die
too old to live
but not too old or too young
to get another beer
-
Author:
Alfred Peyer (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 20th, 2021 15:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 43
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses
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Comments6
Enjoy each next beer Fred, I’ll be over to drink one with you, cheers!
Andy
Thanks Andy, and you are always welcome to drink one here. Or maybe I open up another one and drink it for you!
Fantastic! Enjoy your beer x
Thanks, Olivia, I will!
Cheers, Fred
Thanks Dave, I have to admit though I am more of a wine than a beer drinker.
Drinking is thirsty work Fred. The bottled ale I drink tastes better at room temperature, especially in these cold winter days of U.K.
Bring on the sunshine when golden beers will line my fridge door and we may be allowed the freedom to mingle once again.
Thanks d a, it really is work, isn't it? Growing up in Switzerland I usually drank slightly cold beer, now it cannot be cold enough. But don't forget, it's pretty hot here!
Don't invite me for a beer though, cos I adds water to it. heehee.
I won't be offended if ya don't invite me, nor say 'Humph, see if I care!' lol.
Thanks orchie, I knew you water down your wine, but didn't know you ruin your beer as well.
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