Standing on the cusp of the new year,
looking forward,
the year stretching ahead full of promise,
the possibility of dreams longed for coming true.
The year yet unblemished,
new-day light illuminating white-grey sky,
sun low and awakening.
Behind me lies regret and disappointment.
My hands unclench and scatter
ashes of burnt dreams
and charred days onto frosty ground.
I don’t look back;
what’s done is done.