... poems ..., ... poetry ..., whiskey

Sippin’ Warm Whiskey

sippin’ warm whiskey

on a saturday mornin’

watchin’ the seagulls

skim the horizon

i feel your soft skin

in the sway of the trees

and lulled by your whispers

disguised in the breeze

i’ll sip this drink

till my glass is left

empty and heartless,

alone, and bereft.

from my Ocean to yours, a toast you see

for Whiskey warms my insides and calls you to me.

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