New Year

The dream death;
while birthing a-
poem, weeping
between the lines.

Why do you grieve
for the old year?
The moon will again?
rise and you can

pick up the black
roses for the baby dawn.
Waging your war till
eternity, you can kiss

the red lips of morning
sun. I welcome you,
new year, in my tattered
clothes and golden heart.