not the end

he tells me a year will end
for him on the 31st, and for me it will end too
yet not a simple end of the year
rather, a time to reappear

it will end in a commonwealth of beard
(a grey me and a grey you)
whose reciprocal thoughts we send
to where prose are never feared

so, how does it feel, approaching end days
as the glorious past disappears with each new word
and where the completely absurd
future is surely ablaze

be born again as the new spells begin
though striking the dozen will always win

©1st December 2009 Hey Hey

possibly in progress