Advent 2017

Every year it is the same

In November I begin

To stumble out in search of

A feeling that I once had.

 

I search the mud and dead leaves

For something colourful and

Warm and bright and sweet enough

To get me through the dark days.

 

For a message in the lights

For the song behind the song

I give until I feel good

But it every year eludes.

 

So it is one mad, cold day

That I search, frantic, through the trash

Of Decembers I have known

For a Christmas I can feel

 

And feel, instead, a hand placed

On the shoulder of my heart

And it breaks, and is remade

By the person Christmas is.


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