New Year's Day
It's almost 2 AM, New Year's Day.
I'm driving home from a small party in the country.
The reflective lines in the road shine like the lights of a runway,
Directing me towards home, and to my bed.
Ahead in the dark distance I see two small tail lights,
The only other occupant of this early morning.
I glance at the barns that line the road.
Some new, some old, some decrepit.
The sweet smell of perfume lingers on my clothes.
The scent of the woman who I kissed passionately at midnight.
The only company I have now is the voice of my stereo.
Familiar music is a good deterrent to sleep,
Although I'm not as exhausted as I should be for such an hour.
It has been surprisingly mild for this season,
Provoking a premature feeling of spring.
The snow from last week's cold snap has melted,
And everything has become dry.
In the darkness the landscape is indistinguishable from a spring drive.
Memories from former vernal days give me the sentiment of nostalgia that borders on tears.
The snow will soon return with vengeance.
But for now, I savor this fictitious spring while it lasts.
There really isn't much to say about this poem that isn't explained in it. I actually wrote most of it while driving home at 2:00 AM. The whole day I had a feeling of
spring because of the warm weather. That feeling of wanting to bust out into the streets and finally do stuff again was in the back of my mind. It made me think of the first
few times I played DDR and how magical they were. It made me think of skating down sidewalks with the breeze in my face. All those feelings of spring that are still four
© Copyright 2005: Dean Tersigni. All rights reserved.