Happy Hour Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Happy Hour
Happy hour has come and gone, leaving behind it's debris.
Upstairs is an old man reliving an old memory.
Something that happened years ago, something he had almost forgotten.
But now in vivid color does appear to make him sad - for he has had one too many beers.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
I may be quiet. I may be shy.
But look not always on the outside,
For it is within us that He smiles.
But look not always on the outside,
For it is within us that He smiles.
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
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4/18/2024 11:51:12 PM # 1.0.0.1119
