Ruminations on a Fool

A fool for Love, punch drunk 
awakens on sharp streets of mercy
no sleeping and barely eating,
just another trembling beggar
Who, gratefully, drinks in
any warm sliver of Light
like tea for the infirmed.

A true drunkard learns
patience through waiting
holing up, back in the alley
nearby the tavern ;
trained to listen
for the tinkling chimes
of keys in locks
the music of the return
of the tavern keeper
and the sweet
beginning of another
night of flowing wine
music, dancing,
falling in Love
and, hopefully,
forgiveness
for the ignorant ,
outbursts of the 
perennially soused.
.