Almost.

The year sighs, breathing its last.

It knows that the time to go

is close,

one breath away

in a life span that was gone

before we knew what to do with it.

Promises were made

when it was born,

Of better days ahead.

Of achievements,

mountains to climb.

Some were won,

Other dreams stacked neatly aside.

Like chairs at the end of the night,

cleaning up after the show

Tossed aside,

Not yet over,

But already replaced

in the hearts and minds

of those who dwell within,

ready to make the same promises,

whisper sweet nothings

as the next contender rises