The Last Poem
Words cobbled together
Lose old meanings
Take on new meanings
It is a birth of sorts
We change the numbers
We write on our checks
Look for the meanings
In a barren land
We agree, things are not
What we would want them to be
But still, you are here
And I am, as well
We look together to the new year
With hope and expectations
It will not be from black to white
Rather a slow change
Like a snail in the garden
Leaving a trail behind
Keeping track of where we are going
And where we have been
December 26, 2018
6 comments:
The ushering in of the new for old, old for new - in reflections, as the calendar year changes. A lovely poem with such intimate details, such as cheque writing etc. that bring this to its fullness. I particularly loved the ending, the reference to the snail in the garden, - for change is often slow indeed, and by most of our natures, we are too impatient and wish for the black/white effect.
Happy holidays Annell. :)
I love this. Yes, here we are, inching along our prescribed paths. A wonderful new years poem!
This is nice, Annell. I like the progression with the last verse being my favorite, "Like a snail in the garden Leaving a trail behind." It just seems so natural, one of Mother Nature's smaller creations yet so important.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! (BTW, that's what I liked about teaching, if I didn't meet my standards the new year's new semester would be a second chance to do better.)
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Beautifully reflective.
Anything meaningful is a slow process...Happy New Year !
Change that sticks tends to take a while, indeed...
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