Melioristic

At a closing, the last seconds joyfully counted
down the long tower, a glittering ball descends
intentions glow in sober contrast

to the night, far and away from light
promises fade with time, memory and will.
Still, a guilty twinge unhinged from the rust:

the pounds never lost, the empty glass filled,
paths never walked and books not read
instead, hovers waiting patiently for an excuse.

Footsteps echo in hallways, dark alleys
the unchanged direction never sways
stays laser straight, searing in complacency

unintended vows somehow uttered in vain hope
a horizontal wish to rainbow, then wash away
today again, perhaps things will be better.

The hours will still stroll silently into night
tomorrow will come and go, same as before
ignored for the long-lost memory of resolution.