nails scratch against the computer screen,
as we are dragged towards the circle
that burns red around that calling date.
the wilted confetti of a year we all
believe was ended too late.
and within these crumpled chests,
there is that heady ache left by
all those people who left
(one way or another, gone from us).
crushed glass and baileys
gritty between cramped, tired toes;
gritty on silent and still faces
that lost the little light they held so very long ago.
raise a glass with me -
beneath the weak spark of a firework,
we watch the clocks tick softly as
breath towards a newborn dawn
(softly as your breath, as it mists the windowsill).
shadows on the ceiling, and dusting
the floor are remnants of ticket stubs
and crushed-glass dreams. and mugs
at our lips, overfilled with frothing dark,
are tasteless and headier than you.
the corner between today and tomorrow
turns me around, heart in throat,
old familiarity in the greetings that
are whispered over phone calls.
raise a glass with me, won't you please?
for tomorrow, between lost seconds
where yesterday still clings,
we find the light of some new hope,
some new life. some new love that
we might one day share.
cheers, darling. here's to the morning.