Creative Writing, Poem, Poems, Writing

New Year’s Eve

another wednesday

drags in a new era with the gray,

where the cold dew of winter dusk

slowly fades 

to the beaded light 

of reluctant dawn,

reflected in drops of rain 

left from a fresh pour,

cleansing time clean,

dripping between the gaps

of my fingers,

running my dry mouth wet,

relentless,

a beginning with no certain promises,

another notch added to my belt,

as I tell myself

“no matter”

still clutching onto the last shades of hope 

for revolution and change

to shock life 

back into dead dreams

and cure a drought with a single shower. 


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