New Year's Day Reflections By Peter A. Witt

Another new year, another night alone
with nothing to keep me company but cliches
and a half bottle of rye whiskey, the other half
already leaving me unfit for company and hope.

Every year it’s the same, TV tuned to crowds
enjoying an outdoor party, jolly announcers
talking about the soon to be ball drop,
singers spewing words that can’t be understood
above the background crowd noise.

And every year I torture myself sitting alone,
listening to illegal neighborhood fireworks,
my tortured dog hiding under a chair glad 

his misery is confined to one night a year, 

my smug cat asleep on my lap, oblivious 

to the TV, dog, and me, except when I stop 

stroking his ego with my hand.

Soon, thankfully, it will be over, the bottle
drained, TV crowds subwaying home,
fireworks exhausted, dog relieved,
still smug cat chasing imaginary mice,
as I flop into bed, having survived another night 

alone.

Peter A. Witt is a Texas Poet and a retired university professor. He also writes family history and goes birding with his camera. His poetry has been published on various sites including Verse-Virtual, Fleas on the Dog, Live Encounters, Inspired, The Rye Whiskey Review, Open Skies Quarterly, Active Muse, and New Verse News.