Written by Emma Towers

When the clock strikes twelve
When the countdown begins
Watch the hands of Big Ben
Strike me,
The clock cares not
For what I have lost

In mere seconds I cease to exist
Like a tick on a bucket list – I’m finished

In my place another date
Will sit, waiting
To fill the corners of pages,
Like I once did.

I marked the passing
Of many things;
Loved ones, birthdays,
Anniversaries, to name a few.

But tonight marks my end,
With the last chimes of Big Ben,
Glasses will be raised
To ‘good health’
And for want of a better year.

That’s the hope we hear
Every year,
Each of us try to live
Up to it, but we fall short
When you reminisce.

We do not mean to disappoint
Those who trust in us,
But you ask too much
Of four numbers.
We are merely markers,
But we believe in you,
As you believe in us
On every January 1st.