From the spring of 2016.
To a Lady Bartender, Over Thirty
On Monday mornings, half awake,
You're lovelier than rare beefsteak.
You drink, you smoke, you're anti-vegan;
You'll live as long as Nancy Reagan.
You work all day at Chapeau Rouge
So stiffs like me can drink their booze.
Who can describe the joy you feel
After a large Italian meal?
You love to watch a Boston Bruin
Pummel Canadiens into ruin.
You're sharp and honest, super-witty,
And undeniably, you're pretty.
On days when I'm singin' the blues,
You're the fast cure in size 9 shoes.
I'd ride the train six-point-five miles
Just for a glimpse of one of your smiles.
You've got me dancing round the maypole
Even though it's only April.
You know the words to every song
From nineteen fifty-seven on!
You're Dusty Springfield, Patsy Cline,
The finest glass of Malbec wine.
With fluency in restaurant Spanish,
You're skilled at making bad moods vanish!
I hope your birthday's just like heaven;
Let's both pretend you're twenty-seven.
Poetry by Thomas D
Read 286 times
Written on 2020-02-25 at 08:03
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