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Cup Of Gin, Bombay

Tags: musings

An old broken poet, he has a hungry eye
for the darkening clouds coming his way
with pen and ink, he whittled a thirst
for a cup of gin, Bombay  

The gin was bitter, it burned his tongue
but the swill made his mind full of song
and with a well of ink, he flung a verse
for a cup of gin, Bombay

Rolling dice in a fast lane called life  
he wrote it dark into the dusk
of erotic mimes in twilight
for a cup of gin, Bombay

 

 

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