poetry by j matthew waters

Templeton Rye

It was whiskey Friday
and though possessing neither
we toasted to fortune and fame

Bowie streams through building speakers
giving pause to everyone inside
taking notice of day and time

Just when you thought
forty hours was more than enough
whiskey Friday arrives unannounced
breathing new life into free-flowing ideas
young and old alike

november two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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