Issue #112

Glimmering trail of
Champagne flutes next to the sink
- the party’s over.

No more music, just
Murmurs of slumberous house
- the party’s over.

The last thing I’ll do
Is unplug the Christmas tree lights
- the party’s over.

I’d be sleeping but
For the medication rush
- the party’s over.

My swollen brain but
Fuller heart - this too shall pass
- the party’s over.

But the warmth of it
Hangs in the air like incense.
Laughter and story

The blessings I’ll wear
Like a coat moving forward
Into a New Year.

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