Wednesday, January 3, 2007

New Year's Eve

Inspired by a old Saturday Evening Post

At the stroke of midnight

A matire d', New Year's Eve

Solemnly stares out over the crowd as

the first chords of Auld Lang Syne

reveals confetti, revelers, party hats, wet kisses.

with each toot of a horn

the noise level increases

he grows tired

his silver tray now empty

Champagne flutes have spilt

He seeks a quiet corner

And stands steadfast

quietly to await in limbo

For the last guest to make an exit

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