These Gifts of the New Year

 

 

On some old suburban square

Winter has come, her winds design on me

That time’s triumphs and arcs of defeats

Should come undone, for me to forget

The last year of my fools and gold

So I toast alone, and sign for new heirs

To the liberty I have tasted close

The royal company of my soul

In the city it gets lost sometimes

In-between the hustling the mortal climb

Should I give the homeless beggar coin?

Should I look away from the pretty girl?

The cheering mobs have family banners everywhere

But my wine is God, my life is sunlight

Filling this bravado square, winter

The deep breath, never tasted so right.

Reviews

[Inyourshadow]

Deep insightful poem, the ending adds an extra punch with the family banners metaphor. Keep em' coming