When the Party
Is over.
Later, when the party is over.
And all the guests have gone.
And I’m sitting here all alone.
And I don’t know what’s going on.
That’s the time to call in question
And I ask, is there any more?
And as the last perfume still lingers.
When I slowly close the door.
And as I sit down to rest
Put up my feet and close my eyes
Thoughts of lost liaisons
Crawl into my mind like spies.
Some are sepia and fragmented
Others leap from the screen
All muddled and still moving
And then I want to scream.
And later, deep in the night
I awaken and don’t know
Where I am or where I’ve been
And I’m frozen head to toe.
It’s only then that I realise
That all is not how it seems
And that my maddened mind is haunted
By nightmares and bizarre dreams.
Is it the fear of loneliness?
That grips me like a vice.
Or not knowing what comes next.
And who will roll the dice?
Then much later
In the morn before the dawn
I wake and gaze out the window
And ask my god what’s going on.
And as I lean, I’m in between
The Devil and the deep blue sea
Should I wait and meditate
Or fall before I flee.
©
David Rudder
2023
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