It's the night of our dear Christmas,
and I alone am making noise,
for my brothers and sisters retired from joy,
and I'm shaken by the beauty of our first snow of this year.
The ground, not powdered, but littered in pounds,
of the sticking white water that falls, so profound,
is entrancing and frozen and terribly cold,
but I am in love, and I am thankful.
The air is thick with peace,
and every breath holds the promise of fresh life.
Tomorrow begins a new day, as always,
and if I shall live to witness its glory,
I will try harder than before,
and so on, and so forth,
and so on, and so forth.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 11:09 PM UTC
It's the night of our dear Christmas,
and I alone am making noise,
for my brothers and sisters retired from joy,
and I'm shaken by the beauty of our first snow of this year.
The ground, not powdered, but littered in pounds,
of the sticking white water that falls, so profound,
is entrancing and frozen and terribly cold,
but I am in love, and I am thankful.
The air is thick with peace,
and every breath holds the promise of fresh life.
Tomorrow begins a new day, as always,
and if I shall live to witness its glory,
I will try harder than before,
and so on, and so forth,
and so on, and so forth.
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