BEER GRIN
I found my place, again
I’d known it for a few days
but was keeping it a secret
trying to play it cool
like it was nothing special
but one night she came home
laughed and said to me,
“so this is what I should expect, huh?
That every time I come through the door
I’ll see you sitting there
at the kitchen table,
pounding a huge bottle of beer?”
what could I do but grin
and write a little poem about it?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment