new year’s eve
tomorrow
will be the same as
yesterday
we all know that
despite all the hoots
nothing is left behind
nothing carried forward
that will fulfil our hopes
at the allotted chime
nothing
will stir the dying embers
as the cat sleeps on
the jazz player lays the blues
that simply fall off the edge
of time
each of us alone
at the edge of
the lonely void
for there is no time
when time is alone
so we stand senseless
in the cold
listening for hope
insides turning aside
while all down the while
the new year sleeps
in the cradle of the early days
at the razor edge of time
at this once and only
poignant point
when
new year’s eve
becomes
just another
new year’s day
forgetting that
on new years day
the new year ends
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