Slipping, almost silently, out the back door
another year vanishes
to be talked about (if at all) only in the past
tense: the things we did, those other things
we never quite got round to (which we'll need
to see to soon); places that we'd been,
people seen and some we'd missed
or lost and then again
those others who'd lost us
or left us far behind as sometimes happens.
And so, for auld lang syne may be
(for more than just the habit, surely?)
we'll take a cup, we'll maybe sing
and try to make our peace with this New Year.
No comments:
Post a Comment