Lonely Men In Crowded Pubs

In my merry Monday moment,
I was enjoying my merry ale,
letting out an obscene, but a merry tale.
Then, it appeared, that in the corner of my mirth,
an image of a lonely man took birth.
A grey, thin man, of many years of age,
in my slanted vision, took centre stage.
Clutching his pint, with a yellow grin
hanging above his worn-out chin.
His hair, starving thin and layered grey,
retreated his brow from the weight of the day.
This man, he sat alone.
Staring to the distance, an immobile stone,
except,
when he drank or sucked at his cigarette.
Despite my stupor and my next drink,
the drinking skeleton, he made me think:
Why drink alone in a crowded pub?
Why disturb the image of my joyful hub?

In my timid Tuesday tea time,
I crawled back to this sweet pub of mine.
Ordered my usual ale,
entertaining myself with another obscene tale.
My Monday's mirth cursed me with a hangover,
so I just to drink my pint and order another.
Then I realised the crowds staring my way,
condescending me for drinking during the day.
I lit my smoke, turned away from them.
Saw my reflection and then
I saw it clear.
These people weren't looking at me for sitting here.
I was the one who had invaded their moment of joy
My reflection did convince me of my youth, I was only a boy,
but despite this I could plainly see,
that tonight the lonely man in the crowded pub was me.

By JPV