I saw the flames in her eyes
two small embers that raged
I felt unsure as to the
materials used for her kindling
the line is thin between
passion and loathing
and I did not know
whether I should embrace the heat
or run for water

I spent too many nights waiting,
For you to finally be,
The person that I needed,
But you were never there for me.

I wasted countless hours,
Laying awake in the dark,
Savouring the words you spoke,
Holding onto every spark.

I wanted every moment,
To stay perfect in my mind,
And they did until the day,
You decided to leave me behind.

I picked up the pieces of my heart,
And with thread woven with blame,
I stitched it back together;
Since then it has not been the same.

Now it's covered in cracks and scars,
And I place the fault on you,
Occasionally it falls apart,
That's just what broken hearts do.

I walk forward trough the snow,
It deafens everything but my steps.
The moonlight pierces darkness,
So hopeless, hopeless, hopeless...

It has now started snowing,
Snowflakes darker than the night,
They prance around, with no sound,
Engulfing me.

They have gently grasped my neck,
And with just the slightest grip,
Breath is now leaving my body,
It's leaving as if trying to sing.

They gathered around my feet,
But I know there is nowhere to go,
I accept that there is no kinder fate,
Than one in a tomb of black snow.

If I could wake up tomorrow
And be someone new
I’d hope to be someone
That didn’t care about you

A person who wakes up
And smiles at the sun
Not a recluse
That hides from fun

Someone who looks in the mirror
And values themself
Not insecure
Loathing herself

I wish to be someone
Free as a bird
Not someone who cares
What others have heard

But when I wake up
I will still be me
Hoping and wishing
One day I’ll be free

You've heard this tale
A thousand times,
Take one more spin,
This version's mine.
And this telling tale
Is its first time.
My theme is fitting,
The message sublime,
For the Season of giving,
And gifting one's time.

For my first Christmas
I was three,
But the warmth on that night
Never cooled,
And indeed,
It was
A cold Christmas Eve.

We stuck branches of pine
In a bucket of sand,
That's the snapshot I've got
Of our Christrmas tree then.
Here's the memory that Eve
Of a lad of three,
Yet this story is true,
It's a family heirloom.

We weren't many then,
There was Mammy and Daddy
And six children, soon seven.
Daddy was an Operator
Of cranes and loaders
Dirt packers and graders.
He was working North,
Far North,
Manning a dozer,
Distant from family
Near the Quebec border.
That's where he was
Days before,
When his pant-leg caught fire,
When the diesel was spilled.

We were only three months
In our chosen homeland,
It was 1958,
And fresh from Ireland.

No way to get to him,
Nor him to get home,
No car,  no friends yet,
Little money, no phone.
Yet somebody knew
We were out on our own.

And the snow started falling,
It was Christmas Eve,
I stood at the window,
Saw the snow fill the trees.
I was still and staring,
At what I don't know,
But I remember quite vividly
All that I saw.

Like a scene from a movie
Starring Barry or Bing,
A fire-engine red no-top
Stopped and parked with high beams,
Highlighting the snow,
On that Christmas Eve.

A big man in a red suit
Slid off of the trunk,
Literally carrying a sack,
And calling, **! **!
The family joined me
At the window to see
The big man's helpers
Carry a big Christmas Tree.

When they entered the house
Kevin, Sean, Gerald and I,
Cowered and crouched
Behind the second-hand couch.
We must have resembled
Three monkeys plus me;
I hadn't a clue,
I was dumb-founded and three.

In through the front door
They clattered and sang,
Unloading their boxes
Of food, clothes and toys,
*****, bats and dolls
For two girls and four boys;
And I'm sure there was something
For the coming bundle of joy.

I don't remember their departure,
Or where he went,
But they called Merry Christmas
And left all else unsaid.

Mammy understood
Some good persons had called,
Who'd heard of our plight
And couldn't be calmed
Til they knew for certain
We'd some peace in our storm.

So, that's my first Christmas,
Since then this my creed:
The gift of giving
Isn't under the Tree.