Thoughts On A Cold And Sullen Eve

Let us raise a little glass
and blow on little trumpets.
Let us toast, dear friend of mine
while the minutes march ahead.

Time is swift and time is soothing,
but memory disturbs the dream of living.
Dark the shadows, long the raincoats,
the pitter-patter of the raindrops
oft reminds and often hinders
one from going about their daily duties.

Still let us raise a little glass
and blow on little trumpets.
Fairies make me glad by day
and singing elves by night.

Her smile and call like Luthien's are,
and I, like Beren, eagerly follow.
Desperate for attention
and a warm and guiltless shoulder
while trying to keep the Darcy facade.

While trying to keep the cold outside
and killing the fire inside.
Two decades and three
and many more to come;
Of heartbreak, hope and hubris.

But let us rise and call for order.
Let us lift the little cups.
Drink, my dear friends, drink on me,
and do not waste one drop of wine.

Times are hard, though days be hopeful,
hard to come by, joy has proven.
Drink like there is no tomorrow.
It may turn out to be true.

So walked out Bill and dear old George
into the falling rain.
I sat and watched the glass doors swing,
and sighed as taxis hurried by.

I told myself, it will be fine
in this dear life of mine.