“ Pour me a drink “, she said
“Bourbon in ice”, she said.
Sitting at the bar, her place as usual.
She dazzled today, high heeled red soles and goddess silhouette.
I watch her as her **** nails fiddle with her black hair,
I stand watching her, as she waits at the counter chatting with a stranger.
“ No thank you, I can buy my own and be alone”.She laughed.
Our eyes never met as she types hastily on her phone,
Until she looks through me
“I asked for a Bourbon on ice”. She said
“Cheers”. Said I, grabbing the bottle off the shelf!
Wine, women, bars, independent
History must be the worst teacher,
Or humankind her worst student.
Over and again betrayed by the
Wisest and the kind that be fools.
She ask again in exasperation,
Do you reckon what might be the answer!
If these mountains..
Could speak, would they say it was about to snow.
Would they talk about trees and bees,
Or about snow flake dreams.
About the golden winter sun,
Or the gentle winds that make music.
Would they tell if the time that stood still,
Or the time that stopped for none.
Would they speak of mysterious enchanting nights,
Or whisper stories of starry nights.
Only if these mountains could speak!
I hope someday day I can tell you that equality exists, we won that battle.
That free will exits, choices are yours to make and are yours to face.
That humanity is the new religion, we overcame the breakers that drew us apart.
Goodness and gratitude is the new currency, to exchange liberally.
That borders between nations have been erased, and can be crossed by all living lives.
I hope someday ...
— The End —