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02/23/2016
by Uriel TovarWe see our breaths
Climbing up the orange tinted night sky
As we engage in our ritual story telling
Bottle in hand
Cigarette in mouth
Conjuring up ancient victories
Of our youth
All take their turn
Until drink runs dry
Or body hits floor
As the morning light
Erases the past.
02/23/2016 Posted on 02/23/2016
Copyright © 2025 Uriel Tovar
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 02/23/16 at 06:31 PM nice. brings back memories of hitting floors and staring into morning lights. oh how I dug my brew and butts. on occasion I still enjoy a brew. but ne'er the latter. i'd have to be nuts to do dat! |
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