Monday Morning, 11 a.m. ~ its Monday, you say... and an odd time of day, when most of the workers, are earning their pay... then you turn to me, and wait for a speech, that may never come with a beer in my reach, 11 a.m., it seems such a shame, to sit in that bar stool wasting away, then I turn and say, with a smile on my face, its none of the sort, then off on your way. but still you insist, and struggle and moan, you must be depressed to drink here alone, its then, that I laugh, dismissing your claim, Im not here for penance, or need to be saved I work many hours, through many a year, my bones all now ache, and my future unclear, so forgo your judgment, on what you hold dear, this is my moment, and victory beer.
Posted on: Mon, 03 Nov 2014 16:51:37 +0000
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