You are what I give thanks for on Thanksgiving:
The meal so rich it makes my table groan,
The waking breath that whispers I’m still living
And says, while you’re on earth, I’m not alone.
You are my Christmas Day, and like a toy
I wished for but I never thought I’d get,
The sight of you turns my despair to joy
The way good deeds make treasure out of debt.
You are my New Year’s Eve, my Times Square crowds --
The endless now, caught between then and soon,
Bright as a star that spears through sullen clouds,
Rare as an eclipse of a full blue moon.
And you’re my New Year’s Day, when Time’s wild spin
Is halted by your hopeful cry: “Begin.”
Copyright 2010 Matthew J Wells
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