A year of hope
What is left of this year,
Memories, sweet and sour,
Records of losses and gains,
And lessons learned.
Images, those deleted,
Or laminated and framed.
Names, written in sand,
Or engraved on stone.
This year had been a furnace
That produced pure steel.
This year had blossomed
The reward for years of toil.
The year approaching, the one of hope
Must chisel away one’s false,
And make one a master piece.
The year approaching, with promises
To bloom roses, among thorns of life,
And cut diamonds out of stones.
The coming year is just a sheet
Of plain white paper,
But you have with you, the permanent ink,
And the right to inscribe.
So, may it be the best of your own will
For you have the power to succeed.
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