I open my window,
and breathe the spring air.
I gaze at the new moon.
Tonight, it’s incredibly clear.
I hear the crickets,
hidden in the grass,
and I’m lost in memories
of springs past. Alone,
I toast this New Year
with a glass of old wine.
I’ll soon be fifty-five.
The stars in the sky surround me,
but bring me no cheer.
They are so far away,
and they have been dead
for millions of years.
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