The New Year
Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 8:04 am
The New Year
© Stephen Whiteside 01.01.2012
This morning I went for a walk down our street.
I met an old man who had knobbly feet.
His two legs were bandy. One eye had a cast.
His general look said his best days were past.
I nonetheless hailed him with hope and good cheer,
And asked him his name. He said, "I'm the New Year!"
I said, "With respect, if I may be so bold.
You do not look new, sir. In fact, you look old."
"You should see the others," he chuckled to me.
"They're battered and ruined and tire easily.
You don't want an infant or reckless young lout.
I may not look much, but I'll see the job out."
We walked side by side for a mile - perhaps two.
I can't say for sure, because time fairly flew.
At last I peeled off, but my heels had wings.
It's been a few hours, yet still my heart sings.
He's not new at all. He is old. He is worn,
Yet somehow he's marked me. I'm feeling re-born.
My body feels supple. My mind is quite clear.
We barely have met, but I like the New Year!
© Stephen Whiteside 01.01.2012
This morning I went for a walk down our street.
I met an old man who had knobbly feet.
His two legs were bandy. One eye had a cast.
His general look said his best days were past.
I nonetheless hailed him with hope and good cheer,
And asked him his name. He said, "I'm the New Year!"
I said, "With respect, if I may be so bold.
You do not look new, sir. In fact, you look old."
"You should see the others," he chuckled to me.
"They're battered and ruined and tire easily.
You don't want an infant or reckless young lout.
I may not look much, but I'll see the job out."
We walked side by side for a mile - perhaps two.
I can't say for sure, because time fairly flew.
At last I peeled off, but my heels had wings.
It's been a few hours, yet still my heart sings.
He's not new at all. He is old. He is worn,
Yet somehow he's marked me. I'm feeling re-born.
My body feels supple. My mind is quite clear.
We barely have met, but I like the New Year!