We all spy hungrily
this opportunity,
twinkling bright
beneath a sun
of excitement.
Syllables rush
in unreserved complacency,
to press against patience
and burst forth
through squeaky mail slots,
lost in the daze of unleashed fervor.
But reality, as is its resolve,
ear pressed against a spotted glass,
smiles smugly,
sauntering forward,
an icy pail
upon the simmering
flicker of anticipation.
Dowsed and deflated,
dimly lit are the sparkles,
replaced grimly by logic,
eyes meeting and looking away,
meeting and looking away,
thinking reluctantly of forfeit,
denying admittance until
time intervenes,
demanding final notice.
Sitting, most resigned,
spoken are the dreaded words,
uttered freely,
generously,
as always its seems,
the sacrifice made custom.
And thankful,
less thankful
than should be,
exhilaration flares,
the pail melting
in a now ostentatious flame.
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