Oh winter day: cold, clear, wind chilled bliss, the year has come and gone now. Time is beating its wings on the window, tearing this youth away; making old what was in its prime.
The day, the year, the world has gone and yet before the sun sets fully this last night let us hold and touch, not to forget the climb, the fight, the conquered height of small gains accomplished by the flame of the fireplace glowing, now turned to stone; each small recognition won, came hard won, but by each I've grown, and this night shall pass on and dawn break upon a new year of striving for this soul's sake.
08201968
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