I carry in my pocket bread,

two one pound coins, coal from the surround

we can never afford to put on

for more than half an hour,

and salt, it is not a fetish

but just my way of offering you fortune,

life, heat and wealth in the coming year.

I will walk across your threshold

with a smile and propose we shake hands

under your hallway light, twenty watt bulb,

may you be happy and know love

in the next twelve months, may your Sunday

lunch with family and friends

groan under the weight

but never make you greedy, remember those

who on New Year’s Eve night will not revel

in short skirts, flashing diamonds on their wrists

or the heady scent of perfume

left hanging in the air,

seductive, rampant sexual heat

and expression as they loosen the ties

of the men; remember those who will turn against

the cold.

May this New Year, this coming cheer

of twelve months be kind, be kind

to those and offer the bread in apology,

if they do not acknowledge it, if they take offence

for the slightest thing, then perhaps you think of them

with even more kindness to make up

for theirs.

May your pocket jangle and wallet bulge

but do not let it destroy you, stay humble

in your fortune and remember those that

got you your position when you needed help.

Remember this on New Year’s Eve,

remember everyday,

remember what Ziggy’s creator said,

We can be heroes…

We can be heroes…

remember that.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016