I Blame it on the Belgians
Remember that night
our first round together?
How many nights ago?
How many fights ago?
"The next round's on me,"
you said with a smile.
"I'll buy, you fly."
The beer was free,
but the price was high.
We drank and laughed
and learned about each other,
sip after nervous sip.
You touched my arm
as others came and went
and the hours melted away.
The bartender stayed close by
and the jukebox changed its tune.
(C) 2005 Martin Walsh
No comments:
Post a Comment