Poem on Sunday: I Need a Drink! by Andrew Holden

Andrew Holden

The cooling draughts drown woes at end of day

and I’m light-headed, soaring from first sip.

The swimming senses beg my hand to stay

around the glass, not straying far from lip.

Then sinking in the amniotic pool

of numbing, dumbing, liquid cotton wool.

I know full well it takes me for a fool

but helpless, now that common sense is dull

And so, I prop the bar or raid the fridge,

ignoring morning promises that pled

today would be the last time that the edge

was taken off when quafftide’s thirst is fed

So once again I sit with glass in hand

and failing yet again to make a stand.