A Regular Weekend Night, For Some
The drunken flock
broke jugs of stock.
The barmaid crept with lowered head.
Bogged down, wordless, cheeks lipstick red,
No hemming, hawing or pretending glances,
with gritted teeth, she advances.
'There's a sticky situation here!
Obviously, there's NO MORE BEER!'
By blind poet
© 2009 blind poet
(All rights reserved)
Advance – Bog - Crept – Flock - Grit - Hem – Jug - Lipstick
– Pretend – Sticky )
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