Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #127
The Tavern's Lights
by Belinda Roddie
The tavern's lights were on at three am,
so I stumbled in to hear a banjo
and an accordion squealing a reel
in the corner, while three men drank tall pints
beside the bar. The bartender was young
and lithe, her red hair falling in crisp drapes
across the shoulders of her uniform.
I sat on the stool closest to the wall
and asked if she could spare me a cider.
"I have four dollars in my pocket." She
nodded and passed a bottle, forgoing
the glass. I said, "So you're open pretty
late for a bar." She smiled, not speaking, while
the musicians sang of the Emerald Isle.
by Belinda Roddie
The tavern's lights were on at three am,
so I stumbled in to hear a banjo
and an accordion squealing a reel
in the corner, while three men drank tall pints
beside the bar. The bartender was young
and lithe, her red hair falling in crisp drapes
across the shoulders of her uniform.
I sat on the stool closest to the wall
and asked if she could spare me a cider.
"I have four dollars in my pocket." She
nodded and passed a bottle, forgoing
the glass. I said, "So you're open pretty
late for a bar." She smiled, not speaking, while
the musicians sang of the Emerald Isle.
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