I wake, unrested, from fractured sleep.
New Year’s Eve.
A marker on the endless line.
Fifty odd years of Auld Lang Syne —
faces blurred, moments lost,
promises that dissolved
before they could take root.
Perhaps next year,
I’ll find the strength to begin again.
No resolutions this time though,
only a quiet, trembling hope
that the year ahead
will be kinder than the one before.
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