New Year’s Day 2009 Poem by C Richard Miles

As the milky morning mist sashayed its winsome way
Across the frost-bespangled park on New Year’s day,
I looked out, wistful, cold as London’s torpid air,
My mind, half in trepidation, half in despair
And filled with consternation, as I blankly stared
And pondered what lay ahead, still unprepared
To take my chance out on the beckoning, fresh-swept stage
Of destiny, a yet-unwritten, pristine page
Of history that stood before me, open clear
For possibilities ahead this brand-new year.

What high-flown hopes and aspirations had been born
To set the world to rights? Before the distant dawn
What rash-made resolutions had been idly planned
For saccharine solutions? Since we, hand-in-hand,
As Auld Lang Syne rang out, a few short hours ago
As cash-devouring fireworks shone on those below,
Vowed to begin again with hopeful fingers crossed
To claim the innocence and ease that had been lost
In unremitting storms of gross uncertainty
That had shipwrecked us on a rocky economy.

But why begin a year in mood so grey and glum,
Since only self-fulfilling prophecy must come
From such effete, self-serving, introspective gloom?
Even in such testing times must there be made room
For optimism’s shoot to raise its hopeful head
For, if all faith is lost, then we are good as dead.
So, as the harshest winter melts into the spring,
Yet-unseen opportunities must surely bring
To bloom, from resolution, more exquisite flowers
That bid us not to waste our gift of this year’s hours.