Meus Solitarius

Smoldering red from the distance  
fire from the city below  
hands calloused from the atmosphere  
with no place left to go    
throw down the card win the hand  
pour a glass of something top shelf  
yah top shelf on ice that’d be nice  
the night took the day  
now it takes me  
breeze comes from the maples  
taking its bygone leaves  
with every memory  
that ever mattered  
here i am