Bottle full and empty glass
ready to be filled,
smoke will rise with conversation,
beer and whiskey spilled,
wooden floors and tele stalled,
time and space we killed,
rhythm floods the dancing shoes,
let no one here get ill.
The mind avoids the news,
the music sounds like blues,
the spirit soars and jumps and swings,
the mouth lets out a whisper,
alcohol swims with fish of blue,
and potatoes just get crisper,
the night winds down,
the doors burst wide
and bodies fare you well,
then lights shine bright
and coats get tight
then someone farted in the lift…
C.2024, Francisco Bravo Cabrera/24/04/2024/Valencia, Spain
JaZzArt en València 
Haha! A pretty perfect poem.👌 <33
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Thank you!
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Buen día.
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Buen dia y feliz viernes!
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That last line made me laugh. . .
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
Hehehe… those things happen…
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You really know how to end a poem on a high note….
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Thank you Pat!
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De nada.
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
I wonder if Ronnie was there? 🤔
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
Hehehe… quite possibly 😁
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