It doesn’t really feel like christmas,
the holiday may be dead to me.
No snow to frost
or fire to roast,
no hands to hold
or glass to toast.
It doesn’t really feel like christmas,
my world has hardly slowed,
each night I’m left
to my own device,
no kiss beneath
the mistletoe.
I’d love to feel the spirit
and loved ones lost who could cheer it,
but I’m out astray
with no debt to pay
and love,
I can hardly hear it.
Grief blinds my heart.
I’ve yet to reclaim
what I felt lost.
Moments warm
my heart at times,
until I’m bitten by the frost.
Hope remains
through candle gaze,
that Thursday I’ll rejoice.
The grief’s a maze
and I’m amazed
I haven’t lost hope
in
the noise.