With only an hour left
when he looks back,
at his year at depth,
he feels like a jack-
a puppet of others will,
a piece of broken clay,
who will have to wait till
the break of the next day.
This year has been wasted,
still there are many tomorrows
and it's never too late
to put aside those sorrows,
and start again, anew,
as a new year will bring
not only the usual autumn,
but also the happy spring.
