A Bottle Of Irish Rose Wine

A bottle of Irish Rose wine

 

By his bedside every night

Often he would fall asleep with the bottle still in his hand

The stale smell of wine and beer on his breath

Trails of saliva running down the sides of his mouth

Lingering until he takes another swig, wiping it off with his shirtsleeve

Embracing his drunkenness

 

Out on the streets the very next morning searching and panhandling

For nickels and dimes to buy his next bottle of Irish Rose wine

 

I all too often, I do recall the taste of his kiss upon my lips

Remembering the sloppy wetness and the rancid odor of him

I tried to drown it away with a beer of my own

So it is when you can't beat them, you join them in their misery

Have a beer on me, he'd say as he chugged his bottle of Irish Rose wine

 

Red rose or white

Out on the town, he prances around

Sometimes he sleeps with her in the back allies

Everyone steers clear of him, as sometimes he wreaks of tonic and gin

 

Wandering the streets looking for a place to sleep

Irish Rose wine wrapped in a brown paper bag

Now is clung to his side, where he once held me

Everyone steers clear of him, as sometimes he wreaks of tonic and gin

Reviews

[Tina Kline]

This is very sad. To have to go through something like this is tragic. I hope this wasn't something that you had to live through. The poem is very well written and reads like it could very easily be a song. Excellent poem, it pulled at my emotions.