It's Sunday, that I know. Also that
the new year will start on the same day
as the new week will, it seems appropriate.
Not that that would make any difference,
we will get confused anyway.
With all the promises in the air,
like the tiny ghosts of unborn
children that will bring laughter
into our lives, supposedly.
That is, unless you are old enough
as to not to promise anything anymore,
we are very much aware that the first person
that will get disappointed will be ourselves.

All of those who will be coming back home
tomorrow, to fight for what we think
is best for us, all of us who will be starting
the year with ash running out from our hands,
still sentimentally moved by the same songs,
old dogs trying to learn new tricks
but failing miserably, as we let time
run out. We all will be there.

Maybe the me from five years ago will no longer
recognize himself. He will be here to,
confused, afraid, and looking into the future.