Late Bar

They had the aura of soaring birds,

Though not schools of travelers,

The scavengers.

The ones that hang too long,

Much too long,

And drop.

​

They were a circle of thieves,

Though not your average bores,

Modern troubadours,

With long winded songs of revelry,

Much too long,

But ballads no less.

​

They had the faces of pirates,

Though not scabbed by the sea,

Stained by the heat.

It was astounding,

their balance,

Much too long,

Could they droop.

​

They had the aura of soaring birds,

Not schools of travelers,

The scavengers,

Killing the time,

Too much time,

Before saying goodbye.

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