An Ode To Austen

Laughter, clinking glasses

Candlelight dim in the gloaming of dusk

The musk of men’s cologne,

The heady, pungency of perfume,

Talc powder and makeup;

A miasma that clashes in its own

Saccharine revolutions and swaying turns

The muffled clop of heeled shoes

Bright buckles flash as do the buttons

Upon the uniforms of military men

Contrast the starched white at the collar

Of the vicar, ruddy-faced from the punch

Gossip in the corners; girls giggle

Dancers prance and float to the tune played

A waltz of some renown

The ritual complete, they retire

To speak of ceaseless prattling tales

Banter, chatter, useless tongues flapping

Lapping at finger foods and liquors

Whiling away the candle as it burns itself

Through In the end they part their ways

And revel their way to squatting homes

Their pretenses dropped alongside patched petticoats

That require more maintenance than their bodice

Slumber takes them all, the coals set in their beds

The sandman closing their heavy eyes at last