Quinns In Camden, Where They'll All Come For The Later Liverpool Game Poem by Timmy Curran

A quiet lonely bar, on a beautifully lonely day,
has a thing about it that brings reflections and tranquility,
that a sunny street cannot convey
Here there's collection, recollection and other
words that rhyme in the way one wants to say relaxation,
for here there's only the few that choose to eschew
the company of revelers, tourists and others
who feed the need that could be called soceity, the calm before
the eventual storm that is soon to swarm
upon this ant infested coldrom, but for now,
oh precious now, this moment is fine
in the way it takes so little of my time
and stretches it to the furthest of seconds,
bleeding the woes in a beautiful crescent