The Drunk

He just simply knew the world was his friend,
as he tried to absorb this happy new trend.
The trees on the street he passed every day,
swayed back and forth in some blasé ballet.

The floor seemed so friendly, yet in the wrong place,
came up to meet him, in a solid embrace.
As he lay trying to focus on the circling sky,
thought the old laws of gravity no longer apply.

He closed his eyes tight then as darkness occurred,
that the world stopped spinning he obviously preferred.
He tried to get onto his unwilling feet,
but with his eyes shut, it was no easy feat.

He started for home but to his befuddled dismay,
though his brain sent the message his legs wouldn’t obey.
Then in his shambling zig-zagging gait,
he made his way home, it was getting quite late.

Hiccupping along a now familia street,
his neighbours all tucked up in bed fast asleep.
In order his raucious presence to prolong,
gave them his rendition of a well known football song.

His wife was waiting behind the front door,
had heard it so regular and often before.
Repeating his weekly pointless refrain,
said I’ll never ever get this drunk again.