Wringing in the New
I sip Champagne to strains of Auld Lang Syne.
The moon dissolves with every peal and chime.
Tomorrow slips her sunshine hand in mine.
I shimmy through the embers of my dread
remembering the dreams I left for dead,
recalling gnawing wishes never fed
old visions and decisions born anew
in edgy pledges keen to bid adieu
to every maudlin, melancholic view
a toast to peachy Twenty Twenty-Two:
hot thrills of bliss without the chill of blue –
a chink, a wink, a kick as I kiss you
into a sea of harmony to come
in days that swim along without the glum
banging of life’s gloomful, doomful drum
a gleaming beam that always proves a hit –
a grin of grit and wit that won’t admit
that every peachy year is topped with shit
Susan Jarvis Bryant
If you have any
thoughts on this poem, Susan
Jarvis Bryant would be pleased to hear them.