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Raising the toast last,
to all, that happened in the past,
The tumbler's been rested,
and the euphoria which had nested,
in the circuits crazy, & breaths bated;
for times quite long; has evaporated.
The hangover too, has passed away,
Things are clear, all along the way.
Raising the toast last,
to the times we staged a blast,
We loved, cared & rocked,
We fought, cried & hugged.
It was so memorable, beautiful;
It was good but, not wonderful.
The memories've been put down.
Even though you're in the town,
the world seems clearer,
fine, in place, and equally messier.
Raising the toast last,
to the life- impending & vast.
Future beckons me & you,
Step we must into it & give it its due.
Different, let be the path,
After all, different souls we hath.
Neither made-for-each-other,
nor enemies or arch-rivals or haters.
It's the toast last, as our souls
depart, disperse & roll
away into unknown terrains.
Searching for the remains?
No, there's no time & use
to cherish, or rant or rumble or muse.
Today, a new robe our relation wore;
Of friends; Yeah, the love one I tore.
Sorry, but
the tumbler has been rested,
and the euphoria has evaporated.
Still,
There's one thing I am proud to boast,
It was I who took the charge to raise the last toast.
...To raise the last toast.
