At a steep angle
The bottle does glug
The glass fills fast
With awe I gasp
Stops my worries in their tracks
A salt line to a slug...
A taste of freedom
Down my throat
Worries jettisoned
My sacred medicine
Temporary isolation
Just a tidal moat...
Why are we here?
I don't remember
The summer gives way
To the misty mornings of September
Early dementia
Who are you?
At depth I yearn
For bioluminescent blue
You feel the dark cold?
I feel it too
-
Author:
Syd (
Offline) - Published: August 31st, 2026 16:41
- Comment from author about the poem: Written in May 2018 when I was drinking too much.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 2
Offline)
Comments1
This poem has a special feel to it. It feels liquid in color and it flows quenching a thirst. Nicely done my friend
Thank you Sorenbarret. I very much appreciate your kind comment.
- Syd 🍄
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