London Poem: Day 105

30 November

The last day before the last month,
And the thoughts of the year begin
To whirl about like drunk little
Bees, too long at their fallen apples.
Looping about, it’s difficult to settle
On anything beyond knowing that though
The land has changed, that when I open
My eyes in the morning I see England,
Yet when the new year begins it will
Start for me, once again in America.
We will fly west,
Holding out our hands
And the year will just sail by.
My worries will slip into soft translation,
And know only Auld Lang Syne.
However, my new year, new life will
Begin where I began,
Though this time with you.
Sipping cheap champagne
And eyeing the Bay
We will be away from home,
And still, in mine.
Contradictions with purpose;
Below the tiny blinking lights
We will begin our new year
Nestled into our new home –
The one of two,
In which we watch blossom to
Such promising fruit.

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