High white clouds scudding across a fading dusk sky encroach

Like high bright hopes of time now gone as we see another year approach.

It's no comfort to know there's no earthly chance or any way to control

The passing of the hours and days, so we must ourselves console

With thoughts of better things to come and better times ahead

While we play our part...take up a role...as we put the old year to bed

And listen to its dying breath and pray for a painless closure

.Before we put ourselves to the test meeting each annual exposure

To all that fortune holds in store - of which we must know so little;

Resolutions made - as if afraid that our convictions be so brittle

As to break at every turn and challenge the good we intend

So that we find ourselves on familiar ground as the year comes to its end.

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