2014 was a number

To beg, borrow and steal
from Charles Dickens,
2015 was the best of times
and it was the worst.
Perhaps  2016 will be the same,
but I shall recollect, with love,
and by no other name, how
even the fiercest winds never
once frightened away the birds.

We may have leftovers from 2014 that we can still hold on this year too. Hope. Money. Gadgets. Memories. It could be anything. Or anyone. We may also have to let go, either forcibly or by free will, of a few things. Love. Accommodation. Job. Friends. It doesn’t really matter. In about 8 months, 2016 will arrive. And we will be back, summarizing the year. Chronicling the peaks. Surveying the valleys. Telling ourselves that things will be okay. Knowing that somehow it was all worth the effort.

 

 

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