Champagne dripping from the ceiling
and from her dress and she’s dancing to New Boyz
and chugging the biggest mimosa that you’ve ever seen.
There is not much that could stop her,
a phone call from a particular boy with three easy words
is the only thing that could convince to come home.
Instead, she gets no call,
she gets more beer,
and when she tip toes from the house in the morning,
dried champagne glitters in the sun by the ceiling fan.
Not much editing.