When the Party Is Over
The guests had all left; the band had stopped playing
No more witty remarks, no more 'As I was saying'
Decorations strewn casually on the floor here and there
Half-filled glasses of champagne's stale odor downstairs
We looked at each other; we managed to smile
Surrounded by emptiness, crusted dishes in piles
Our heads still a-buzz from the night's gay repartee
These aches in our joints, souvenirs of exuberant glee
Turn back the hands of the clock, O you Guardians of Night
Nevermore burst forth rays of the dawn of morn's light
Play the music forever; let the champagne flow upstream
Perpetuate laughter, delicacies dainty, and dreams
For memories dim, as events recede in Time's sands
When the party is over, who will strike up the band
June 24, 2019
After the Party Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anthony Slausin
Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2019
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