The eyes at the bottom of the glass
Staring long and hard into the glass,
The bartender told him he had no class
A drunk, with no future, and a tortured past,
Eyes looking back from bottom of the glass
God he knows that, he’s sinking fast
Faceless without a name on a stool;
A bartender’s, no friend, often cruel,
I’ll take your money you witless fool.
Life’s problems! I can’t fix I’ve no tool,
Dare to ask! You think you’re the first;
Looking back as you silently curse,
Is there no end to this hellish thirst?
Mind screaming fates do your worst.
With aching heart bleeding;
From life he’s been retreating?
A soft gentle voice pleading,
To home it’s gently leading
He reaches to turn on the light,
The emptiness, it’s worse at night.
The empty bed a frightening sight;
Loss of his wife began his plight!
Cursing the hand that he was dealt,
Room spinning pillow hardly felt.
Those eyes his soul would melt,
Upon his wife, his fevered mind dwelt
Comments about this poem (The eyes at the bottom of the glass by Derrick Fernie )
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