Shadows and Inebriant

he was in a tavern dimly lit
pie-faced drunk smelling of piss
holding a cigar though unlit
his tepid whiskey at half glass

he said he was a bard of yore
and sang songs off-key
about adventures, being the hero
he giggled often with glee

he often fell from his chair
yelling at the oncoming floor
that hurt his face as he fell
a spectacle for all to see

he spoke to his shadow
for no one cared about him
none reacted to his laughter
for his laughter was not for company

a past dwelled behind his eyes
being a wounded spirit, wild and free
he found solace in the cold glass
of any drinks ale or beer

after midnight he stumbled away
disappearing into the darkness
no toast to the lonely drunk
found dead at the park