One more sip becomes one more glass
I stare down at my bourbon
swirling the amber potential against
a crystal clear horizon
the tinkling of the ice cubes
the proverbial music of the spheres
and when I exhale
it's as if my breath has substance
each breath is a statement as if I were a Dragon
exhalations of Hellfire and righteousness.
Please... Justin, do
not yet pull back the curtain
for I still need to believe in
the great and powerful Oz.
There is still plenty of time for the empty glass.