Time's Manuscript
Unblemished pages without soiling mark
stretch out ahead of these expectant eyes;
trembling I wait dark midnight to embark
upon my journey, promising and new;
what delights, what sorrows await, disguised,
before I bid this infant year adieu?
Tolling clocks engrave with new year's song
first lines where timid steps engage the scroll;
time's manuscripts record both right and wrong.
Some far tomorrow when I stand again,
as now, this new year past and marked the poll,
shall conscience call the writing loss or win?
Unblemished pages without soiling mark
tolling clocks engrave with new year's song.
Copyright, December 20, 2015
Faye Lanham Gibson
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