She scowled
at Dad’s medicine.
Her curative was prayer.
Even the blood of Jesus
was made Welch’s.
We're the Ezine dedicated to all things barroom. We are slightly off what others consider the norm and always the last to close the bar. If you prefer the local dive bar to the glitz of some overpriced club then you're our kind of people. So welcome grab a drink and enjoy.
She scowled
at Dad’s medicine.
Her curative was prayer.
Even the blood of Jesus
was made Welch’s.
I rise to take my leave of the tavern keeper, draining the last darkness from the bottle, friends melt away all too soon. The moon, a fledgl...
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