Monday, January 3, 2011


Image borrowed from Bing


The holidays as revelers
have finally exhausted themselves,
and the furor, tinsel, paper horns,
and champagne bubbles fade,
like watching the relatives drive off
in their caravans, becoming tiny
at the end of the street, headed home,
back to their lives.

Glenn Buttkus

January 2011

Would you like to hear the Author read this poem to you?

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