I feel sad when my drink is ending

I know I'm in my happy place as I'll start to think in rhyme. My aim is to have written a series of poems about Pescara that will remain in my poetry book as a reminder of my time here.

Today I was planning how I'm going to celebrate my departure from Pescara.  I already know exactly where I want to have my 'official' leaving party: La Nuova Lavanderia.  I consider myself a lucky person as I knew of this place when it was just an idea in the owner's head as he is my colleague's husband.  While thinking about the invitations and how my leaving party will be such an oxymoron I began to rhyme.  As today I have the day off I actually had the time to build on that rhyme and write a whole poem (hurrah for time off!).  The title itself I wrote down a few weeks back whilst enjoying a cocktail there with one of my friends.  I really did feel very, very sad.


I feel sad when my drink is ending
said the Alchemist's assistant while rinsing glasses in the sink:
"Good to see you my friend, what would you like to drink?"
So she mulled over the menu that was pushed into her hand
by the Alchemist himself, a cheery, funny man.
They both watched her intently as her eyes began to glaze.
Whilst perusing the latest potions, all the words became a maze.
A maze of tingling taste buds: of sours, sweet and bitter,
of spice and fruit and cinnamon and mixtures that could glitter.
"You know...", she said, as she let the menu fall,
"I really can't decide, you seem to have it all."
"Well let me conjure something according to your taste,
I'll create a special potion that you will not want to waste."
And so it goes, the rhythm, of deciding what to drink
while the Alchemist's assistant rinses glasses in the sink.


Here's a recording of me reading it out loud: