happy new year

ten, nine, eight, seven, six, 

and there’s music playing,

and everyone is smiling, 

and a stray firework explodes

a moment too soon,

and my heart is so full.

five, four, three, two, one!

and there is kissing, 

and there is cheering,

and the ball has fallen 

all the way down, 

and someone pops open a bottle.

tomorrow, 

the newness of it all 

will come rushing in,

with shiny new calendars 

and planners full of clean white pages.

but, in the golden bubbles, I can see

a box of apple juice 

on the playground,

a sip from the water fountain

after tryouts,

a shot of tequila

on the dancefloor,

a mug of tea

on a friend’s old couch,

a cup of kindness

for auld lang syne. 

for old times’ sake.