One two, one two, me and you,

We are caught in a ladder of numbers: the years roll out and scroll up.

Watch them pass us by, through our toes and fingers,

how they fly how they fly!

Heyho: one day we’ll die.

Three four, three four, all this and more.

As the times pass by, flow on and along

In to the sea of the future—

where it goes, who knows,

Not I, nor you, what is there to do?

Make plans! Yes,

those thin, finite bands that we tie

across

our wrists and loop around a rock, in this sea this silly sea, this sea of history.

Unknown is the future: uncharted its waters, that splash of numbers,

each droplet a digit.

Five six, five six, we are lost in its tricks, unsure of where to start or look for that damned rock!

Seven eight, seven eight, too late too late,

We have already drifted out, where we cannot see coast or, what’s that? at most—the horizon! Yes, the horizon! Let’s pin our hopes on that, shall we? Look ahead to the horizon, young fella, plan and hope,

nine ten, nine ten, begin again.

A new year, a new horizon upon which to stack a list of things, goals, trinkets

You want to earn or achieve, if you believe it can be done so easily as writing on a sheet of paper

A new me, Twenty-Eighteen.

Nine ten, nine ten, again, again! What fun our little circus, how fast this carnival of ageing!

A new year? New?

New new, what’s new? Is there anything

New about all of this? There is?

well, that’s news to me.