This Year
Here's a slight slip of poetry for your first few days of 2025: This Year Less than 72 hours old, This year already feels like the past, When we struggled to find the words. There was hope, In those first few moments after midnight, When the lights went dim and we went to bed. We woke up to uncertainty, And put on brave faces, And told ourselves we would be better. Then life stirs, as it always does, And good intentions begin to dim, Even as we say all the right things. You said to me, “It’ll be worth it,” And I said to you, “We can do this,” This year will be our year.
