Between the glisten of tinsel,
the weight of the stocking.

Someone is crying,
and someone is knocking.

Mixed in with the raisins,
the cookies,
the milk.

One dressed in flannel
the other in silk.

Dressed in textiles and six feet under.

One
In the dirt.
And
One
Under the covers.

Tonight one child goes to sleep with hope.

And elsewhere a mother is trying to cope.

One is young, so fresh and alive.

One is grieving the death of their child.

So hug your loved ones close tonight.

Because somewhere,
someone
does not have
that right.