A Poem

I thought of lines
pretty ones
that flowed off the lips
like rain off a spring petal
longed to write them
inside the flap of the old book
I had to have
three dollars
a bargain indeed
It spoke of battlements
and corpses green with the plague
and I found it beautiful
we listened to poetry
with the symphony of sirens
as there was no air
just open windows
looking out into the back lot
the building was covered 
in fresh green vines
my mind kept wandering
far away
to the vines
to the small yellowed book 
nestled on the shelf beside me
a childrens book
for children with beds of stone
later I drank cold beer 
from a frosty mug
I wanted to go home 
find the warmth of my bed
and never leave
filled with poetry and beer
sirens