Gone, last year, you’re gone,
as a guilty lover steals away,
No use zipping up the bright
horizon as the day begins again –
your replacement will still barge in.

You’ve grown old, weary, your face
craggy as a mountain, your beard
a wisp of cloud. Time to chase
your end around the world,
your destination everywhere.

Run, old year, to time’s
bartered space, where
the chaos of bewildered atoms
cannot follow. You, who were
only a shadow, a shape of brief
episodes, departed moments,
forgoten yesterdays, a bridge
swept away by momentum’s
transformation.