Lag Time Elegy
where sorrow buffers in silence
The message came, but far too late,
The loss was slow to load as fate.
He read it once, then once again,
But couldnāt find the end of when.
Scotch poured neat, a solemn thread,
With whispers meant for absent dead.
A drop of amaro, dark and sweet,
Like grief that limps but wonāt retreat.
Then lemon oil, a fragile grace,
A citrus ghost in silent space.
He stirred, but not to chill or blend,
Just motion, like pretending end.
He sipped. The timeline bent, then broke.
No flood, no sob, no final stroke.
Just quiet glass and time delayed,
A mourning queued… but never played.
š Lag Time Elegy ā The Recipe
- 2 oz Single Malt Scotch (Highland or Speyside for melancholy warmth)
- Ā½ oz Amaro Averna or Montenegro
- 1 dash Lemon Bitters
- Garnish: Expressed lemon peel and gently dropped like the letter that changed everything
Instructions:
Stir slowly over a large cube with the patience of unfinished grief.
Strain into a lowball glass.
Serve when the silence is loud enough to drink.