Barroom philosopher

Barroom philosopher

Late-night raconteur

Disseminating wisdom

With glass in hand

A twinkle in his eye

‘Of course, if there is meaning

To all this madness

It is in the laughter of a child

Free from doubt

Short on malice

Bubbling with the confidence

Of youth

Before a man’s skin

Resembles crepe paper

When everything is new

Knock-knock jokes are funny

Santa Claus is true

Which of course he is

Within the context

Of the time and space continuum

When all things move

Relative to one another

Including the richness

Of childhood experience

When love is freely given

The term unconditional

Is too loosely used

By therapists

Working a script

They give to insurance salesmen

A short-cut explanation

Given oxygen

By virtue of its role

As catch-all

In the parent-trap

When the frazzled soul

Takes stock

Of itself

What else would it do

If not for love

Sleepless from the moment

They were born

Too worried to relax…

Unlike me…’

He pauses, always

Touched by drama

Tilting his glass

Tipping a wink

Waiting for a refill

‘My worry beads

Are left uncounted

I will never be too old

For ice-cream

After midnight

Profiteroles with dark chocolate

Bacon for breakfast

And a penchant for fish ‘n’ chips

Whilst drinking Brown Ale

From a bottle

On a schoolyard wall

Reminiscing

About all the things

I would be missing

If I stopped dreaming,

Got old

And folded a winning hand

Like my dad

God rest his soul.’