Post Holiday

all that was old gets one bit older
while the young get sober and bolder

all things we imagined were yet to prime
confined to memory, meanings no more rhyme

desires and ambitions had gone for a toss
now return to haunt bohemia like a boss

relationships so broke, desperate measures be thy norm
deep laborious panting, breathing, restless be thy form

like time lost in one of those catacombs
replenish will it or sail with an aplomb!