One starry day in late July
I saw the New Year flying by.
He thought that since July was late,
he wouldn’t bother with the date.
He’d told himself to take his time
but had replied, ‘That wouldn’t chime
with prior plans. I can’t endure
its constant lapsing any more.’
For he was off to Everywhere
and didn’t want to take it there!
‘If too much Time is on my hands
it might make interim demands.’
And so he’d left it standing still
and lonely on his window-sill.
And since it had been left behind
the New Year sped, time out of mind,
to any where or when he’d choose.
For now he had no time to lose.