New Year

The dream death; 
while birthing a�"� 
poem, weeping 
between the lines. 

Why do you grieve 
for the old year? 
The moon will again�"� 
rise and you can 

pick up the black 
roses for the baby dawn. 
Waging your war till 
eternity, you can kiss 

the red lips of morning 
sun. I welcome you, 
new year, in my tattered 
clothes and golden heart.