Another year is knocking,
But I am not ready to answer.
Don’t they know rebirth doesn’t happen in winter?

I am still unbecoming.
I am still busy undoing.
My bones are still tired.
I don’t feel like pursuing.

I will leave the Christmas tree up.
I will continue to rest.
I had to learn this the hard way:
There’s no use trying to be best.

I do not plan to start anew.
I do not wish to have a goal.
I will not write out things to do,
Or make a vision board of it all.

I have done enough.
I saved more than money.
I saved my life a few times
And still haven’t tasted honey.

It is not me who needs to be sweeter.

I do not need to be better.
It is the years who need to be better to me.