Andrey Usachev. (№ 143534)

The new year flies in the sky?
Or out of the woods going?
Or from a snowdrift
To us come the new year?
He probably lived a snowflake
At some star
Or hiding a feather
The Frost in his beard?
To sleep he climbed up in the fridge
Or the squirrel in the hollow...
Or in an old alarm clock
He got under the glass?
I love she:
The clock strikes twelve...
And nowhere
To us comes the New year!