The Old Within The New,

The old within the new. -by MFB III



A sprinkle

of confetti

multi-colored

dots my hair,

The sweet scent

of champagne

emanates from a

blot spilled on my sweater.

The clock has just struck

twelve but I am stuck

at one...

One is the number

that still brings

little to no changes

What is new now,

is old news to me....

Because I am still "one"

as stale love staggers

in a huff off to bed

dead to my world

my needs

growing older daily

while the clock

mocks me as I play

a sad refrain

on my party blower's horn

All around the

joyous planet

limbs entwine

and lips are pressed

like sweet grapes

into fine wine,

Yet I sit here

un-im-pressed

while the scent

of old wine emptied

wafts from the splotch

splashed on my chest.

a reminder of the new

which has remained to me

still the old within.

that new, old

aquaintance

Now forgotten

from the days of

Auld Lang Syne.


©-MFB III

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