This week’s poem, thoughts on looking back at the year just passed, and allowing yourself the freedom to interpret events in the light of passing time.

New Year

It’s a new year,

Twenty-seventeen drifting off into the stratosphere,

Not quite gone, memories press on,

You’re allowed to edit if your aim is sincere

It’s a new year,

Some things best forgotten, others brought into the clear.

My past is my own, timbre and tone,

Processed from left or right hemisphere.

It’s a new year,

Time to wake up love and peace, ditch cynicism and fear,

Remember solutions, repeat resolutions,

Trust that hope runs eternal, if you just persevere.

Kampala, 2018