At 2 in the morning

Once every year

We sit down in the same wooden table

Drinking our second cup of coffee

Talking about our crazy aunts
and
weird family traditions.

Discussing the government
Or
social problems of our time.

Coming up with revolutionary ideas
that will never leave the room.  

We exchange our war stories
And a future apocalypse
that may or may not happen.

We cry
And then
we laugh

But by the time
the clock strikes 3

Our beds shall not remain empty.

So
With droopy eyes
and yawning mouths
We agree to continue
the same conversations
The upcoming year.