Remy Martin

 

The Rain had poured and long exhausted;
Droplets dripping and making rhythms!
The breeze wet and mulishly cold,
Surges through the paisley floors!

A lone soul convenes near a shady porch;
Nothing is heard except when silence spoke!
The ebbing cigar in his mouth sleeps and unsleeps;
The fumes forming into haunting ghostly beasts!

The Polkas in The Futon seems to bop around!
Or is it his futile efforts to forget and rebound?
The quietude night passes sans inner peace;
On the tray, the scattered pineapples and cheese!

The somnolent self whining in the dark;
High with trepidation and anxiety!
Pain from the past etched like a stain;
The bittersweet cognac still warm in the veins!