Monday, January 05, 2004
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I stand gazing at the Crimson Moon,
A gentle hymn resonates the evening skies,
The Faded Sonance of the sparrow's song that he so gently croons.
The warm blanket of fire which covered the land,
Is slowly swallowed by the gaping maw of Night,
The turn of the page, This last day would soon end.
The night comes alive for one last time,
As people celebrate their hearts out.
In parties and gatherings, Spending every nickel and dime.
The clock ticks into the final minute,
The atmosphere is restive.
5...4...3...2...1
"Happy new year!" the cries of the nation.
I stay watching it all through the eyes of plastic,
The colours of the world danced in endless elation.
Engulfed by the new winds of change,
I take a deep breath and sigh,
Will everything be better 2004?