Wisemen

They were bottled souls,

Aged sixty,

Simply looking for a glass to fill.

So they asked for me,

And I came against my will.

 

Advice on the rocks,

Aged sixty,

A lad of my age ought to know.

I might not fancy the taste,

But it’s something to keep on the go.

 

All that they said,

Quite dated.

Both a bit bitter and sweet.

I was used to different flavours.

They were used to neat.

 

A bottled soul,

Aged eighteen,

Hopefully aging like fine wine,

With a distaste,

For the stale words of Wisemen,

Rendered poor old fools with time.

 

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2 thoughts on “Wisemen

  1. Dad says:

    Brilliant… I was used to different flavours…. Used to neat….. Captures the generational divide beautifully

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