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.
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UpChuckingwords said,
December 4, 2014 at 12:27 am
I feel like I’m sitting at said pub, observing. Nicely done
Julia Dean-Richards said,
December 4, 2014 at 7:38 am
Ah, I might have seen you x
UpChuckingwords said,
December 4, 2014 at 8:46 am
Now that would be fun
BookOfPain said,
December 12, 2014 at 12:05 am
Julia,
I’ve missed you! How are things going?
j
Julia Dean-Richards said,
December 18, 2014 at 11:04 pm
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.