The Party's End

The glittering things were taken down
and packed into dusty boxes
with romantically curled edges.
The lights were switched off for
another year and new locations
thought of, new things to do.
The winter seemed milder
but for how long?
It always seemed, around here,
to come back and bite,
broken mirror sharp;
cutting the most washing-hard
skin.
There were times when the
heady stench of warm bodies
felt good.  Now it repulses like
cigarette butts in ashtrays
piled high in old pubs.
Urinals marinading chewed gum.
The party's end brought with it
a hope and a thought of
something lost
and something yet to come.