PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When the bitter December air blows and the girl

screams on the street corner, a Christmas list of dreams and demands

in her unrelenting grip, a bit homesick, though she is young,

wishing her poppa hadn't drifted so far

from who he was when she was born.

When at school the boy had day dreamed of staying home

and keeping the door closed--

now amidst his mother's disillusioned cries to be understood

and the solace of the radio in his room,

he imagines himself singing "Blue Christmas" like Elvis

and impressing all the kids at school.

When the young woman pulls a tray of chocolate chip cookies

from the oven and turns on the television,

wishing there was someone there to share them

and so she opens the window and smells the night,

the snow approaching with the wind from beyond the moonlight.

And the young man strikes the guitar strings with fingers

cold to the bone, a tragic tale sung in every note

but his heart beats warmly and echoes up the street

along the cool walls of every home

in search of something kind

underneath the December sky.