The Old Within the New

The old within the new.

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 still stuck

at one...

One is the number

even in a new year 

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

and there are 

no resolutions

that are not too 

costly or painful

for two once loving souls

now seperated from the 

years they shared together

and left to face 
another listless

365 more new 

days to endure.