'Another year has passed us by,'
say the old and weary
while the young and starry-eyed
see a bright new future nearing

'Times of trouble 'round the bend'
but we see a hopeful light,
this can't be very end
we see with a different sight

Out on the horizon,
glowing like the great warm sun
not setting-- it's rising
and toward it we will run and run

Meeting our fate head on,
brave, and bold, and true
and young and strong and wise beyond
our years-- that's me and you

The Old Year was like a map, with explored territory colored yellow, and high mountains in certain places. The New Year was like a map also, but it was perfectly flat and dark and unexplored. I was afraid of it. I leaned across the table to speak to Clara.

"How long will it take you to remember to write the new year instead of the old one on your school papers?"

Clara looked up from the newspaper - she liked reading them, like the grown-ups. "How long? I don't know, a day or so."