oh how brief

the ice melts
in the glass
of Black Bush
and my mind
like the ice
into memories
of shared bottles
of old friends
of time past
and oh how brief
ice lasts
in a glass

the words

the words
so faint now
at three am
with a glass
or three
of Jameson
to add to the haze
that is memory
here there
a voice fades
in out
and time
that old bandit
robs me
once again
of the words