The Red Lion
Drinking in a country pub one summer’s day
Watching tiny particles of dust
In cinema slow motion
Dancing daintily in a sunbeam shaft
Like miniscule krill in a bay yet
Switch off the sun and
You wouldn’t know the dust was there
But my friend these particles are everywhere
If you only care
I sink another glug of beer
This glass ringed as a tree
Each line of foam left here
Like a layer of history.
Then turn to The Gents
Or head for the door
That you need no more
For that’s time at the bar
Time at the bar please
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