Christmas wind blows through the street
and, like an ethereal snowflake,
warmth comes windborne
to every Christmaslighted home;
including mine.

And the delicate Christmas zephyr
has relit the hearth within
me, seeking to touch the stars,
source of its fiery essence...
maybe it is you, brought by the Christmas wind.

And I'm submerged in sapphire waters
breathlessly drowning in thoughts of blue
that entail a poetic ascension which,
brought by the Christmas wind, must be you.

And though drafts of subdued indecisions
faze me from abroad the garden of Eden
Christmas wind straightens the vane
for I believe I have found what'll **** me, then.
It is you.