Sleepless nights when I was young,
fond times - I reminisce;
though many I cannot recall,
there is one I truly miss:

Midnight mass at the cathedral,
the echo of sung hymns;
growing restless in the pew,
as the candles all burned dim.

Still of the night - heavy silence,
white flake now falling  swift;
plumes of smoke from chimneys,
and in windows stood trees lit.

Waiting in suspense - so eager,
in my bed under the sheets;
hearing  the howl of a winter's gale
blustering against the eaves.

Old Saint Nick would soon arrive,
with his sleigh and sack of gifts;
bringing joy to all boys and girls,
and crossing names off His list.

But now I have aged and withered,
and so Christmas has lost its glow;
on its Eve I still remain awake,
and watch the falling snow.