The Cynical Guest (Poetry)

I’m thinking of leaving the party
but it’s a little too soon to go yet
caught up chatting to those past avoiding —
sundry guests I’d have rather not met.

I’ve mingled enough for a lifetime
and parleyed to stifle the yawn
that futility’s building inside me —
close to rueing the day I was born.

There has to be more to existence
than the feeble façade we put on
pretending it’s all hunky-dory
when the cheap gaudy sparkle’s near-gone.

I’ve been searching the crowd for a reason —
to cast off this cynical gloom
and find a real warmth to the season
lost somewhere in this too-bright room.

I’m hoping I might glimpse an angel —
some spirit that glows from afar
or that magic will shine through a window —
one dazzling significant star.

There’s a spark of the child still remembers
the candlelight carols and snow —
that old spell humming down through the darkness
to spread peace and love here below.

Those old stories — the fables of Christmas
the crib and the tree in the hall
luscious smells wafting out of the kitchen
such enchantment — the thrill of it all...

Those ghosts from the past they still haunt me
and mock my splenetic disdain
unpicking that cool disillusion
they taunt me again and again.

Though I’m thinking of quitting the party
I will linger awhile just in case
I might miss the glad chimes welcome midnight —
feel a flickering smile warm my face...