as dawn approaches
the man on the sofa wakes up

stockings are empty

living room looks like normandy
   after the invasion
crumpled gift wrap everywhere
ribbons and bows languishing
   lazily on the floor
the dog sleeping soundly like
   someone snuck her a bowl of gin

the note to santa has disappeared
like the fat turkey plopped down on
the dining room table, all prettied up
for the christmas feast

and now everyone is left with today

holiday depression ensues

the man on the sofa longs to see
something joyful, something that
says there's more to life
than the gray of winter
the chill in the wind
the loneliness of long
silent nights ahead

he knows he's old, tired,
too disillusioned about the world
to make sense of anything anymore

he feels that hope is an
endangered belief that eludes
too many people now

in defeat, in resignation, he
returns to the ultimate escape...
a peaceful, dreamless sleep far
from the uncertain present

and outside
the sun
like hope itself -
bright and glowing -
begins to rise