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Monday 2 January 2023

New Year

New Year 

Haven’t we been here before?

Weren’t we here last year?

Didn’t we sing that same old song

When we couldn’t remember all the words?

Didn’t we shake hands, embrace or kiss

Our dearest loved ones

Or those who were merely nearest

Who we may never see again

And ardently wish them All The Best

For yet another year?

 

But what exactly lies ahead?

Surely just another set of days

Of twenty-four hour periods

Of dark and light

Dictated by the planet

As it spins upon its axis

And orbits around its feeble sun

In our lonely, empty Solar System

Where the ticks of Time

Are dictated by space

Gravity and physics

 

But then these groups of seven

That regulate our working and our resting cycles

The days and weeks and months

With their pagan and Roman names

That no-one can quite explain

That set out and delineate our lives

The paying of wages and the salaries

Shopping, driving, eating and sleeping

Laughing and loving, screaming and shouting

And the same old, same old for another year

Are those of mere mortal star-gazers

Astrologers and mathematicians

Emperors and philosophers

Who chose to give their names

To bring about some apparent order

In to our chaotic lives

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2023

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