Closed Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Closed
Bartender clearing the glasses from the bar,
stools sitting emptily, alone.
Neon signs still glaring overhead, pool table
lying silently awake, balls all tucked safely
in pockets of felt.
Cue sticks on the wall, held in by clasps for
their protection.
Napkin holders being refilled, talking on the
phone, the bar is now closed.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/19/2024 11:13:34 AM # 1.0.0.1119
