The Old Years gone, now served his time,
He slipped away on distant Chimes,
We met him when an Infant spawned,
Then to ageing bones the Seasons formed.
A bewildering thing, a puzzle of sorts,
The Hours he’s served and the change he’s brought.
One day his face a Worrisome frown,
Another day a cackling Clown.
At times a Midwife the Fount of all birth,
A moments breath to a Sexton’s Earth.
He was it’s said a strange old Soul,
A Capricious temper when truth is told.
His father taught him all he knew,
Those trials of life, those Straws we drew.
From rising Sun to Twilights fall,
Those hurdles faced, he laid them all.
So goodbye Old Year we knew you well,
Were you much Loved? -
Only the Reader may tell.