The year may be a new one,
but I am not new.
I am old,
the oldest version of myself I have ever been,
and the realisation of this hits a little more each year.
Not much has passed me by,
but that doesn’t mean it all remains.
Last year started empty,
so I guess the glass had no choice to fill,
but that doesn’t mean I feel quenched
The glass is still yet to be full,
and it’s the last day of the year.
Should have worked harder with the resources I had, perhaps,
the way things are, are just what they are, perhaps.
Ungrateful yet grateful of the passing byes,
I can’t help but long nostalgically for a year I haven’t even had,
let alone have lost.