New Years

I became Rip Van Winkle in my sleep, another
dream tossed to the curve of seasons changed.
I think we shake each year like the day’s clothes
crawl into sheets, pick the new set, find coffee
hot or cold to ease our heads and the passage of time.

I awoke into something new, my clothes did not fit
and neither did the day. Something has changed;
the rhythm of hearts and my favorite song
beating differently, out of pace.

I forgot someone’s name. This happens.
I always remember faces though
and the threads that connect our selves. 
I make no resolutions, only resolve to smile
and make a toast. We have weathered well