New Year’s Eve

Last night we sat out on our balcony,
my family together
for the first time in four years.

We lit candles and Dad played a recording of Julie Andrews singing Auld Lang Syne
and I thought of a podcast I'd heard
Of how world war soldiers sang to it's tune

'We're here because we're here because
we're here because we're here'

I sang that to myself as I walked home
realising that though I miss 'there'

Which is Hampstead Heath and number 17
and the Riverbank Club and Leo's office
and Benson Villa and Wytham woods
and a certain caravan named Florence

that I'm here
because I'm here
because I'm here because
I'm here

I sang it underneath a sky you’d never find there
With blue like a child’s crayon and streaks of salmon
and an ocean-crossing vastness
And knew that there is both hope and futility
in ‘I’m here because I’m here’.
But who wouldn’t choose hope?