late to the party -- 3w4DW

prompt me and I'll write you a poem.

fannish or non -- if non-fannish, a theme would be nice.


today's poem:

Late to the party

I come
when mostly empty bottles line the wall
and someone's fidgeting with the sound
and the remnant of something scandalous
is in the air
and one guest, or four, lies curled in a corner
or an overstuffed chair
with a satisfied look on her face
and someone is gently stroking
another one's head
who is looking back with tilted gaze
calmly curious
about what comes
next