Hungover and watering a park.

And now desire in her death bed lie,
As last night memories flow with morning sorrows woe.
Come hither the roaring world doth cry,
As one leaves her warmly domain on a sigh.
As injured mind and shaky hands do excel at given tasks,
A gifted memory of yonder sight does wish for newly pasts.
But come what sorrow can, for the night is young, amen.
The bottles are opened, the spirits are poured, lessons of tomorrow and yestergone left un-adored.