toga reflection

There’s a white bedsheet
draped over your shoulder
and you laugh quietly to yourself
with a sadness in your eyes.
Is it the memory that haunts you yet
or the strained future, tainting
your vision of the present?
No, don’t allow this to happen –
lift your glass high, and sing with me.
The night is still so young, and there is
so much fun to be had. Place a bet,
play a game, pour me another drink.
Liberate yourself from those anxieties
if only for these few short hours
and tell me how you feel in the morning.
Now how did this get here?
There’s a white bedsheet draped over one shoulder
with laurels in your hair. Oh my, how I laugh.
Promise me you’ll never leave;
and I’ll lift my glass up high.