Ten minutes ago it was last year
Now it's a New Year
So what ?
The clock strikes midnight
We take down the old calendar
But what is the point
of all this celebration ?
There is no difference
between this night
and any other cold, wintry night
A year has passed
but years pass all the time
not just at one specific moment
decreed, not by nature,
but by the men who devised the calendar
The passage of time
is not something that can be escaped
Time itself ceases to have meaning for me
but yet I write
with an urgency
suggesting that time is short
We all must change
for otherwise
time will change us
whether we like it or not
© GERALD ENGLAND
Composed: Ackworth, 1st January 1967
Publications
1971 YORKSHIRE POETS '72 (Sheffield, Grove Publications)
1997 The Writer's Home Page (Internet)
1998 LIMBO TIME (Hyde, New Hope International)
1998 NASA (USA)
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