…he put away the whiskey bottle
a constant companion for a few years
he’d developed a liking for sour mash
but it was choking his internal gears.
There was no chance of him needing the twelve steps
But he was wary of danger nonetheless
That was one thing he wouldn’t slide into
Though it could have been easy he’d confess.
Black coffee, the saviour for so many
It can bring you back from the brink
It clears the head with its caffeine-born taste
And allows that now clear head to think.
©Joe Wilson – Old friends…2010