The longer pointer embraces the other
At the top of the disc of time.
And at the moment of fusion,
One year falls dead,
One year is born.
No pangs of a mother
Just the familiar chime
Then a wave of ecstatic emotion
As humans embrace each other
And glasses kiss and cluster.
Yet well beyond the din and sway -
As always when folly crosses my way -
My thoughts go galloping far away
And the enchanting Muse - like Sleeping Beauty -
Wakes up to whisper into my ear:
"Is this a moment for ecstasy?
"Or really a moment for mourning?"
Then quickly adds in a fainter whisper:
"Or is it just like any other?"
And after some reflection I say:
"None of these is right
"It's a moment to think and ponder
"Or else a moment to pray"
And whilst a year is born around me
A poem struggles to see the light
Before the break of day.