the year has come and go.
many nitwits passed through my shadows
through the winter cold air all over
my shriveling body showers
the rain of lost hopes passed
i came out with a wooden glass
to fill with promises made and foretold
filling how my wooden glass could hold
i tried so hard to catch the biggest drops
but it escapes my poor little cup
it cannot but be filled with hopes and dreams
but tears, yes, as it may seem
i learned the hard way this year.
