The clock has struck twelve, and my heart drifts back to a time and place when this hour on this day, was a gust of thirty candles on biscuit pudding, and many friends, and a quiet kiss, and plates and plates of your favourite food.
They say you seldom find love, but I say you seldom forget it. Even when there is none of it left but quiet memory, you remember it- and in that brief moment of remembrance- you are all love.
So here’s to you, for now you are just past-love, mere memory. Here’s to all that was good in you, for all ill is forgiven. Here’s to all happiness for you, for time is if nothing, a great mellower. Here’s to the moments when everybody, and you and me, believed we had the perfect love. And most of all, here’s to the turn of the year.
It hails a new beginning.