First Night

 

And the old year rolled down its sleeves
and bid a last farewell,
the year we’d shaped between us, now still.
With gifts and thanks we sent him off,
but did not shut the door.

One breath exhaled, and one indrawn,
scarce time to share a kiss
to wish for a better year to come;
This stranger we welcomed with such cheer
A glass raised in his name.

He toasted us, but did not pause
in rolling up his sleeves,
knowing full well what we’d forgotten:
We make ourselves each year.

 

Happy New Year, all of you.  May the best of 2011 be the worst of what you face in 2012.

 

– Laura Anne

 

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