Whether we linger, tearful and fond,
or pack its bags and hurry it out
clothes falling
from the half-closed suitcase
as we bolt the door behind it,
Tonight
is for farewells
to this year that will never come again.
Tomorrow is for resolutions
and returns to shops,
for change and promises,
for champagne and parties.
However we take our leave from each other,
weeks from now, cleaning the guest room,
we may find the old year
left a gift behind
something sweet or steely
to open in the spring.
Puff Of Smoke Poems 