It's been a year.
That leaves one more.
They say that the second year flies by.
They, in this case, being everyone.
I hope they -- everyone -- are right.
I want this year to fly by.
I've got it all planned out:
to be busy --
so caught up in living,
so ignorant of time --
busy enough that you sneak up on me.
One day you're there, and the next?
You'll be here again! A surprise.