Gazing out at the night sky,
one forlorn plastic bag i spy,
fluttering unheralded in a stiff gale,
against a sky, parts black,ochre and pale!
No destination,No horizon,No direction,No call,
the black vision that holds me enthralled,
is not having a purpose or a plot,
is this setting ethereal or a blot??
the wind brings promise of a new year's rain,
will peace be supreme or will anarchy reign again,
the new year's birth is cloaked by the darkness,
Revelry is naught! for the Rhymonster hates excess!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
GREETINGS RHYMONSTER
NOT SO FOND OF THE NEW YEAR BUT HAVE LEARNED TO LIVE WITH IT EVERY YEAR ON THE EVE...