Hope is a flower


 

The calendar comes a full circle
Oh how, the months by us, went
As the blood gushes through the ventricles
Some in idledom, while others, well spent

As we list out the years highlights
Of the hard work , toil and moil
We celebrate on the joys and triumph 
and must ignore the rusted, rickety and unoiled

So if the calendar sheets are through
Does that mean this offers nothing new?
How does it matter, a day or a month
When you spearhead a plan, with strength

While we defy and fight for our rights
To our flaws and shortcomings, we submit
Despite what the ego instructs
We must rectify and overcome it

So here’s to the closure of the bad olds
And the starts of many good news
Through the manure of the bygone dead mistakes
A successful, positive hope of a flower, renews

 

This week’s 3ww entry.