Thursday, January 8, 2009

2009 Poem

It’s a new year.
It’s unwashed.
Unsoiled. Unused.
No one else wanted it?
Free to the taker.
Given to the old and the young alike.
Offered up to criminals and saints.
Just as it is.
Unmoulded. Uncut. A tabula Rosa.
Not even a hand me down.
A gracious gift indeed
But whatever.
Not particularly special
As everyone has one.
But don’t turn your back on it
It’s demanding by the nano second
Shouting to be taken seriously
Actively inviting play
Scorning work
And over far too soon as one gets to know them
Unequivocal at first
Then something to be cherished
And sought after.
I’m making mine something for sure
I don’t know what
But it’s going to be something.
It’s going to be the best year
That ever was.
You wait and see.
I’m going to make it

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