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Passing of the Old Year

 

The curtain\'s fringe dips

in twilight\'s final breath.

 

A whisper of moments -

gone but never vanished.

 

Time\'s echo softens,

leaves in winter\'s cradle.

 

Veins of silver moonlight

trace memories of yore.

 

Farewell, the old year\'s

shadowy and tender grace.

 

A hush of endings softly

yields to morning\'s promise.