too much for an ending year

`

 

 

 

There should be a vibrant atmosphere
at the close of this tremendous year.

Who'd have imagined it would bring crowds
from near and far and miles around?
But like other years it fades all too quickly,
then we each for ourselves new lives begin.

Our days and hours go by much too fast.
It seems nothing we built will ever last.

Over festive traditions we spin
to emerge from a dizzying daze.


There should be found at the end of this,
intact; puzzle pieces of our years,
whose fluttering wings shall come to rest
on a requited lover's heaving chest.

 

 

 

`