The circus now has ended, go in peace-
And wait for the inevitable clash
Of life and weariness without surcease
Colloquially known as post-con crash.

How can we fail to mourn collective glee
As for the year it goes into remission,
And fades into the sort of memory
That causes melancholic disposition.

Postponing crash was all that I could do-
By means of sleep and robust exercise.
Of course it’s not a thing I can eschew
No matter how I’d wish it otherwise.

Alas, we all must pay this bitter price
For having tasted part of paradise.