Let's only call this a night,
Eve, if the mood strikes.
Give the hours a hand to go
straight to twelve with a bubbly-pop,
the minutes a push to make it a second past
with the glass raised for the emptying. From old
to new, from then to now's a matter of counting
down: ten to nine to eight, your lips puckered
in place. From seven to six, your sleep-allied eyes
aligning. Between five and four, ready
to take three to two finally unto one, at last, alone,
the television picture going to snow.
© 2010 Maureen E. Doallas
I wrote this poem for Carry on Tuesday, which each week provides a prompt that participants are to use wholly or partly in an original poem or prose piece. The prompt for Tuesday, December 28, consists of the opening line of Helen Hunt Jackson's poem "New Year's Morning": Only a night from old to new!
Anyone may respond to the prompt. Go here for instructions for Prompt #85 and to add the link to your contribution.