Walk a mile

After The Party

Time slows to a sluggish beat,
the witching hour is near.
Tick.
         Tock.
D r a g g e d inexorably towards midnight's exile.

A sharp counterpoint
to the languorous pendulum,
a frantic rush
         from forum to forum,
                   to the finish line.

Time's determined march
shoves us into tomorrow.

A pause.

A wry smile,
and blinking to refocus on the less transitory tasks.

Pat,
slumped on the floor,
surrounded by melting puddles
of imaginative ice creams
with fantastical names.
Satisfied.
Exhausted.

Hannah
hands mops and buckets to
the Paper Doll Gang.
A whistle entertains the ear,
then Lucky's guitar strikes a chord
and enthusiasm builds in a steady rhythm.

Mona stumbles in,
bare feet sliding on freshly swabbed floors.
High heels gone,
tiara askew,
smile as endearing as ever.
A parade of exquisite fashion
follows her,
distracting,
dazzling..

A cheeky grin
to match witty banter.
Lucky's strumming picks up pace.
Allegro.

When all is back as it ought to be,
then there's a show,
an awards ceremony,
and prizes to see.
Record profits announced,
and receipts handed out.

Rubbish bags,
overflowing with flyers
and confetti.

Plonk down on overstuffed armchairs,
and relax.
Only three months 'til Christmas.


Free verse. Written 8 September 2015.

Second place in the Try Something New contest (September 2015).

Mentioned: Pat ~ Rejoice always! , Hannah ♫♥♫ , As Luck Would Have It and eyestar~* .