The Morning After

The Morning After

At one point in the night, the rules became void.

Nearing midnight, the normal decorous behaviors that one might have attributed to the prior year become obsolete.

That clock chime of midnight, followed by cheers of the New Year, the kisses, the hugs, the stolen glances, the raucous and illicit behavior that is normally unacceptable becomes the norm.

Inhibitions are ignored. The party is on.

And as the ticking of the clock begins counting down the seconds of the New Year, the spell wears off, one tick at a time.

The magical and wondrous moments that were so special in the fleeting moments of the previous year become tarnished as the spell fades.

With that stroke of midnight the ball gowns vanish and the rags reappear, the crystal slippers show their tarnish, the noble steed becomes a humble mouse once again.

And the guests who partake in libations increase their intake in the hope that the mysterious properties of the drink will once again cause the room to sparkle but the thrill is increasingly empty.

Those moments of the previous year, lived out in music and merriment, are gone and will never return.

And the one who subtly flirted, who stole glances with me in the candlelight, sees a different person when the lights come up,when the music stops.

How can an individual be judged on a few moments of gaiety?

How can a man be measured by a few brief indiscretions carried out in the magic of the evening?

Not even the artful skills of a furtive godmother can bring back the few moments of splendor as they tick away like grains of sand--one after the other--never to return to the hourglass again.