Fresh seemed your youth, fresh seemed your flood of hope,
New-Years-Gone, fresh you are no more. Old Year,
I see you past, I lived your life, of hope,
I’ve watched you pass, without scope, without clear

Words of freedom. Oh, Non-Year! You fed my
Mind such fears, my heart soul-tears, awareness
Seared into brief bio-life of earthly whys!
New Year, I fear you’ve bled out liveliness.

Okay, Nude Year, I see your plight. Tonight,
You live! In two days, you die, I’m sorry…
Should I despair I go on? Are you right,
And I am wrong? Must I go forth, worry-

Ridden? New-Year-Almost-Gone! Do you fear
The answers to your passing, antique-dear?

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 12/29/06