New Year
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At midnight, he'll propose a toast
and raise to light a fluted glass,
as they gaze, muted, at their host
Though in his eye may sting a tear,
he knows theirs will stay dry, en masse,
as they ring in the coming year
That he alone bears witness to
this cheerless savoir-faire, is clear
but he's forgot (or never knew)
such camaraderie, at most,
is retrospect to spirits here,
where every guest is but a ghost...
At midnight, he'll propose a toast
that he alone bears witness to
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Copyright © Lycia Harding | Year Posted 2015
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