Storm In A Teacup

It’s easy to sip and sigh,

Letting words roll off your steamy tongue,

Only emotions stay while your thoughts die.

In the ladder of life, tonight is but a rung.

That liquid fire, made of rotten fruit,

It turns to ash your throat, every swig

A reminder of your sad life; full of dirt and soot.

In front of the mighty trees around, you are but a twig.

It all started with your persistent friends,

Just then you received a call from your lover

Telling you that your love was at ends.

The joy of intoxication you did uncover.

My friend, instead if you could just see,

Why did you look to drink and booze,

What prompted you to the table be

You wonder if the right things you did choose.

Though life is rarely a choice in monochrome,

Sometimes we should give it a little more thought

And a lot less weight. It’s a meadow with free roam.

Maybe its high time to stop, to rest, you were never taught.

You see, quite simply, that jar of ale

Was an open invitation to discuss your tale,

And while you may think it is morose and dull

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