Pub

In the heart of party season, on reluctant retreat from a soul freezing evening, a pub customer skirts the herd, and is driven deep into an enclave of unsociable seats.

Head dipped, the lone sheep sips lycopene laced with tons of tobasco, and window watches a few frozen smokers, summarily excluded,  kiss fire sticks with blue lips between gastronomical delights.

Published by

Julia Dean-Richards

Julia is a writer and performer living in the Shropshire hills. Her writing is a product and expression of the love she has found whilst journeying through the most difficult times of her life.

5 thoughts on “Pub”

    1. Greetings PenDragon, many thanks for dropping by. Change has been happening here – not bad, just different. Plenty to write but not much time to do it. Seeing in the dark, my poetry book, is on sale now, so that is something else to chew on. I look forward to catching up with you.

please feel free to comment on these poems - all feedback appreciated. :)

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