Pub Armistice


 

Wine glass stems gripped so tight they might break,
Lighters flicked on and off illuminating,
Two pairs of eyes that don’t want to meet.
While their offspring springs off on his scooter,
To investigate the fruit machine’s lights,
Oblivious to this cold war on a summer’s day.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s