Tale of the New Year

The Old Year now is all set to depart,

His bags all packed full of tales of despair,

For he’s not the same Soul that he was at the start,

All youthful intent and confident air.

Now he’s off to the Realm where the Old Years lay their heads,

That Valhalla for long days having been spun unto death,

Here the Centuries tell tales of Misery and Dread,

Like old Lords in their Brandy filled,drawling long breath.

For each and every one claim the reward for being aggrieved,

The Course was well run to the end,

But the procedure of Man leaves one utterly bereaved,

Though saplings of Love could still move to amend.

Now; away at the door for the ‘First Foot’ to be laid,

The New Year stands alone with much ambition and Heart,

And Janus once again see’s the Eve slowly fade,

The Church-Bells give notice, ‘You’re done here, so depart’.

And very soon the child is born,

Those days that house our lives,

Where the act of ‘Just being’ with our hopes to adorn,

To Live and to Love, to Conquer and to Strive.

Now as the Seasons pass-along 

Their statements duly made,

His treads are firm and wilfully strong,

But all duration is set to fade.

And so the Old Years whose vigilance now kept,

Have repaired a seat, for the Rovers retreat,

For unto the line is progress has crept,

His duty now done, his endeavour complete.