You remember when it was New Year’s Eve and we all stood in the park and it started to snow and all across the grass people were lighting those paper lanterns that we watched float off into the deep clear night and the brand-new year? And we wondered where they’d travel, these flickering starry specks of warm orange, growing distant by the second, out across the city towers and the cranes illuminated with fairy lights. And the lanterns were lifted with sleepy-eyed dreams as we clasped each other against the cold.
We don’t see lanterns anymore, though dreams float on.
MW Bewick 