“Bacchanal”

We once began our bacchanal

days of wine and roses; all.

‘Til the band did stop its play

if we had no means to pay.

Oh, the frenzied riot’s bloom;

Oh, the headache mid the tune.

When the day did dawn anew

we were forced see it through.

Riotous, emboldened, short

haunts the memory’s cavort.

Oh, the candle burned too bright

as it snuffed reality.

Purple, the passion, college days;

grain of alcohol we played.

Priest and Priestess; we were gay.

Died too soon, a withered fate.

Swept away in our bacchanal

hollow dreams in hallowed hall.

Bacchanal, Challenge, drunkenness, Poetry, wine