I’m starting this year in a black dress and combat boots.
Gone are the wasted minutes of waiting,
replaying reflections to find reasons, seeking reassurance;
that’s all behind me, flattened by boot prints.
But look up, and you’ll still see the sweet I hold on to,
I cherish, like the quietest cloud at sunset,
or the taste of music, or the feel of blue.
I’m still here this year, with boots to carry me through.