Last Call

This poem evokes a mix of intensity and reserve. It's a reminder that things are not always as they appear.

 

It was last call for alcohol,
And everyone was fine.
Save an old man who sat alone,
beneath the neon sign.

He swept the Stetson from his head,
And caught the barmaid's eye.
"Pour me a shot," the drover barked.
"This time I'll have a rye."

She gave a sigh and turned to him,
Not sure what he would think.
"We're closing soon," the barmaid scoffed,
"You've had enough to drink."

The cowboy stood and snatched his hat,
"I'm coming back, you know."
She grabbed her coat and took his arm,
"Yeah, Grandpa—tomorrow."

 

If you like this poem, you may enjoy my poetry collection