For the New Year HTC

January 03, 1994|By Barbara M. Simon

The days fall like words

into silence, swallowed

by the deepening late

afternoon. Shadows melt

with gray light, and we

drift into the hard

heart of another year's

dying. In our windows,

we've placed candles,

their artificial glow, warmth

for all the hands

we won't hold, all

the lives we can't touch.

We face the turn in the season,

the twist into the next

year with smiles set

and eyes like snow

on a night when the drifts

pile up and travelers,

even those returning home

for celebrations of long tradition

and great anticipation, lose

their ways. We are those

adventurers, we try to say,

come through hardships,

life's mistakes and blunders

weighing on us, blanketing

our intentions so as the year

turns out into the freeze

of black sky, only small

stars disturb the darkness

where we wish for their light.

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