New Year
The year is fading out, they say,
it’s old and cold, its sun has set;
but must it leave and go away?
I am not finished with it yet!
A new year’s coming, nails and screws;
all we can do is wait and see
if it can fill the old one’s shoes,
if it will smile on you and me.
We watch it rise from far away
with so much bustle, noise and steam;
the future seems to dip and sway –
will it be nightmare, or a dream?
It’s rattling in, it’s coming fast,
all veiled in sparks and roll of drums;
come, hold my hand; it’s here at last,
let us enjoy whatever comes.
It’s kind of scary, like a maze,
inscrutable, and cloudy too;
it seems to wrap us in a haze:
oh, where am I? and where are you?
It’s rather strange and very big,
and what it hides I cannot see.
I’ll hold a green and leafy twig
of hazel, so you’ll know it’s me.
Jane Røken
If
you have any comments on this poem, Jane Røken would be
pleased to hear from you.
