Two Poems

Digging through a bit of my old writing while I prepare my next story, I came across these two poems that despite not being written as a pair, fit together well.

One night at a cafe

The bow swings slowly across
the cello softly bellowing
and it is again time to sip
the wine's ruby glow shines
across the white table cloth
slowly absorbing
one single red drop of ambrosia's blood
when the artist stops and looks
a smile creeping
spying cool crystal pressed
to my lips
I am indeed having a good time

The next day

This life moves groggily in front of my head
and I plod on through quiet streets,
the night's lights lead my lost stare.

They say that knowing is half the fight,
but seems to me to be just stepping into the ring.

If I am able to last a couple rounds
let alone win the fight,
it will not be on what I know,
but holding out against what I think I want.

Still I awake in the morning saying
today is the beginning of the day after the fight.

Even if I go back through those ropes,
like one might, your head dazed
by the landing of the glove before the bell,
there is tomorrow or the day after that.