In the dreary shadows
Of the snug they lurk,
Haunting the establishment
Without their wives,
The lonely, disillusioned, disconnected,
Dissatisfied with their daily lives,
Happier in the company of like-minded others
They grumble as they drown their sorrow,
Darker their mood slips
With every sip, every swallow,
As deeper into the mud
Of their misery they wallow,
And contrary to the myth
Where home’s their comfort and hub,
They find blissful sanctuary
In a pint down the pub.
Diane Scantlebury
Image : Guernseypoets
