There is a sort of romance one can find at a bar A mysterious sense of love Removed from everyday life From work or phone calls home If you close your eyes you can hear it The clacking of ice-cube The clacking of glass The slow pour of a beer The faster swish of it being Slid down to your hand Bumping once or twice on the uneven wooden surface The slightly cold drip running down the side of your glass These sounds are romantic Hemmingway wrote at a bar Odds are your parents feel in love in one First kisses and embraces with friends you’ve missed They happen at a bar If you close your ears you can see it A dingy light from over head A spotlight for a pretty girl’s smile The colors that the last sip of whisky After they’re watered down with ice The swooshing hues of red and white Inside wine glasses from a couple a few seats down The hand of the bartender covering yours As you hand them their tip And in that same second lock eyes Before quickly looking down A love in a life before this one maybe. One can find romance in a bar In the littlest of things When paid attention to They hold a sense of mystery.