resolutionary

no matter what page we turn
what ball drops or what
calendar we follow when
tomorrow dawns on us
we will still hold the sorrow
that slept here last night

the hopes and fears
of all last year might sit
silently for a few hours
while we dance and
remember the promises
we hoped to keep

but they will come back
like old friends who know
every day is a new year
full of ancient feelings
there is nothing new
nothing new . . .

remember this:
love is the oldest thing.
before there was sorrow,
despair, or broken things —
yes, before even that . . .
there is love. Begin again.

Peace,
Milton