Ode to BOS

Before bright golden dawn
dances tiptoe
on the lusty mountaintops
Boys of Sas
rise
from their barstools
and stumble home to bed
determined to open
their bleary eyes
before the sun has fled.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else?
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3 Responses to Ode to BOS

  1. George says:

    Ah yes,
    Obviously in reference to the SAS centennial. Century of SAS!!! A round of Sherries for you and your Muse poet laureate to SAS. Now watch your tongue man, you’re speaking for SAS now-… provided that caliber and properness proceed.

  2. George says:

    Hold on to your barstool………..you missed it. And too bad for you cause you’d be holdin a glass of sherry in your photo instead of that white baby duck.

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