The rays of the sun on the last day of the year
filter through my curtained window
to form patches on the floor. Golden ones.
The pillow catches a few rays and hugs them tight.
The room is bright, but why do I feel like a frightened bird?
The heart is petrified and a paranoid me
sees nothing but a void, shouting its lungs out.
Oh, these fears, these apprehensions, and doubts!
Grotesque shreds and chunks do a bizarre dance,
scaring me. A bird happily hops on the window sill,
unaware of the tumult in my heart.
Now, it is the moon eavesdropping,
chopping the night bit by bit.
I hear the descending steps of the departing year.
The night picks up the hems of its star-spangled dark gown
and traipses away.
My ears prick to the sounds of the New Year.
Hush, do you hear the sounds too?
Soft -soothing -sublime. A sense of Deja Vu.
Lights on! Fight on! Everything seems to be lit.
Soak the light bit by bit.
High time! High time!
It is high time for a joyous rhyme!