At the End of the Day

At the end of the day

all you have left is the night
When all is said and done
all you have left is companionable silence
When the fat lady has sung
all you have left are empty seats
and used plastic beakers
At the end of the line
all you have left is an empty carriage
and discarded Metros
At the end of a lollipop?
The stick
At the end of a dream?
Harsh daylight and broken blinds
a cold bed
At the end of a book
the after images of words
a maelstrom of thoughts
the plastic petals of hope and heartbreak
already leaking through
gaps in the memory bank
and sluicing along the gutters
towards the end of the poem.
And then what?
A pause for reflection
or maybe time
for a brew