As such,
I now have a gingered soul
that swelled
in cinnamon scented trails;
it now awaits
the last breeze
that this year sends
my way
to toss
the last morsel
of remorse
scattered upon and carried
away into the year past.
I await
like you,
to watch moments,
new moments
unfurl;
they're enshrined in remnant hours,
and we'd peg our Yuletide souls
as memory,
and don hues
of the very first morn
tomorrow,
and before we do,
I wish you
a Very Happy New Year,
may it bear Glad Tidings,
and all prosperity. . .