A Perfect Ache

A perfect ache:
the recognition of 
the possibility that
you’ve just celebrated
the last New Year’s Eve
you’ll ever have.

It’s not maudlin
or self-pitying to do so.
You’re just applying simple math
to the question of

how many more full years
you are likely to have left
when compared to how many
you’ve had so far; 

you ache a little at the result
but are thrilled a little too
that at least this one was
peaceful and decent and 
done early and well if it’s to be
the last.

You stack silly borrowed hats and noisemakers
on the barroom table before you leave.
Someone can use them next year.
You might even be back.  Who knows?
Not you, of course. The odds
suggest otherwise but you place
your bets before leaving 
when you are so careful with 
such simple, disposable items as these.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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