Walking down Broadway,
A street filled with strife.
Kicking at pieces
of someone's broken life.
For there lies the bottle,
Kicked off to the side.
Last night he held it
Like it was his bride,
As long as he kept it
He'd never be small.
Through the rim of a bottle
He stood seven feet tall.
But daylight comes swiftly
And before his eyes
It seems he had shrunk
To infinitesimal size.
He had to find comfort,
He had to find a way to get
a jug of cheap wine,
For tonight, he would hold it
Like it was his bride
And dream of the time
When She lay by his side.
When he could move mountains,
For she was his wife.
But,when she left
She took all his reason for life.
But, tonight in his dreams,
He'll remember it all
And through the rim of a bottle,
He'll stand seven feet tall.
Broadway in this poem isn't in New York. It is connected to Downtown Cleveland, Ohio.
