I let go the year
and I turn my face forward
expectantly, so.
Part of time counted in days.
Three hundred and sixty five.
Every day numbered,
measured, timed, and valued well
or maybe squandered.
Days of joy passed quickly by
while the painful ones stretched long.
For the new year born
will consist of single days
the same as others.
And I will live each moment
as if it were the last one.