Sat in a bar, this solo drinker,
Non-alcoholic, a cloudless thinker,
Watching others party and revel,
Dancing as if possessed by the devil,
Partners kiss with building passion,
Passed by drunks in questionable fashion.
Yet here he sits totally alone,
His company, music on his phone,
A drink titled the ‘Sun-kissed Virgin’,
Its fruity lust begins to burgeon,
Company not something for which he pines,
Solus, he happily drinks and dines.
New to what some call a lonesome life,
Without a partner, sans his wife,
Venturing without another soul,
Losing a half, yet still a whole,
This night, the start of a new beginning,
A calm facade, but internally grinning.
Drink after drink, the night moves on,
Some drunks remain, some have gone,
They pass him like he doesn’t exist,
A fleeting glance, but soon dismissed,
A person alone, a spectral wraith,
Seen as one without hope or faith.
This singleton has a unique view,
Undistracted to witness the real, the true,
People’s behaviour is fascinating,
The intricacies of communicating,
A fluid movement of dancing motion,
Or a smile, a gesture, a simple notion.
“Got time, but I don’t mind”,
Justin generates a group-sized grind,
People lose their sexual shit,
From the stylish, to the pissed misfit,
Music weaves its alluring charm,
The most stoic, a tune can soon disarm.
Lights now dim, spots are flashing,
Purples and blues are playfully dashing,
This drink is now empty, only drops,
No more flavour to pass these chops,
Time to stretch these rested feet,
And introduce them to the street.
This night, one of illumination,
Of growth, love and liberation,
Revealing more than meets the eye,
Unlocking the potential to soar up high,
Time alone can help you heal,
To hear your voice and how you feel.
By Paul Webster