Displaying the art

Of dips and mixtures

Behind the brown,

Blending counter,

Wondering what’s

In-stored for me

To encounter?

 

The day is new,

With a few new faces;

Some seem secretive,

While some lay

Approachable traces,

Some indulged in

Small-talk dates,

And some drowned

Quickly into lust-chases.

 

A pair of eyes peered

Outside the window,

Albeit having many

Consumable insides,

And I know that

He who fails to

Share what’s in mind,

Decides to hide;

His mind’s weather

Seems hard to gauge,

I hope he finds

Someone to talk to

And engage.

 

This place is

Religious to me,

Heartbroken or happy,

People present here

Are the ones who

Made it out alive.

 

Within my portion

Are some potions,

Of which I mix

A little bit of bliss

And a little bit of bam,

To appreciate your

Small victories

With slow claps.

 

If you’ve got

A redemption due,

I’m here to serve you,

Perhaps to lure

All your senses

Into the vastness

Of confidence.

 

In this happy hour,

I see renewed faces

Preferring whiskey neat,

And chugging bears,

Producing a smile so sweet,

And echoing cheers.

 

Some are trying to

Get back on their feet,

And I precisely know

What they need.

And to the ones

Who are unhappy,

And too lost to

Figure out where to be,

The rest of the rounds

Are on me.