Looking back on my youth, I'm lost in a whirl of thoughts, of great times when life was filled with sunny skies, bare feet, peanut butter & jelly and a hug from Mom as I ran out the door.  Memories so fresh like opening a picture book.  I'm "home" every time I think of you.  I wander back to places only I can go, I need not share with anyone.  Not like when I was told to share, to give up my favorite toy, blanket, or bike.

I can choose to share my dreams if I wish but they will never be given away.  My memories and love of you is a present just for me.  So many things I was given through your love, often with sacrifices of your own.  Never a word spoken of it then or now.  Knowing now because I'm a parent too.

Your love for me was baking cookies, a Band-Aid and a kiss, a kind word, holding my head when I was sick, carving pumpkins, always standing up for me, and giving of yourself without question.  
On my case, in my face and snooping around the place because you love me.  What a wonderful feeling; a knowing in my heart of a safe place.
"HOME"

A phrase repeated in silence on the crowded
cracked sidewalks in front of the A&W.;
Sung aloud in dark closets by every child whose life began
by slipping away.

Not by the select few,
but by the faceless swollen tongues of the "never were."
For it wasn't a verse one could just grab out of the swirling wind.
Had it been that simple, it surely would have been ingested into the sweaty pores of the last kid never chosen for the play ground pickup games.

(and then the street lights came on)

I remember swinging from the chandelier amongst the post mortem passing of the dinning room chants in my parents' house.
Those words "yes you can" shouted along with the accompaniment
of old blue eyes on the phonograph belting out
"I've got the world on a string."

"Yes you can."

"No Dad I can't."

"I know that you can."

Perhaps some day;
however it has not been this day or any of my days past.
I've yet to feel the tremor of an accomplishment that never was.
I salute those that have reached past themselves
into and through
the blind happenstance of the heavy chained vale of betterment.

"However"
the world I cruise through
holds no more pleasure nor displeasure
then the shoes I wear.

Come climb aboard the club car of the tireless train stuck in reverse
replaying the same unforgettable years of regret
on the overhead screen.
What I will not surrender has been neatly placed back into the baggage car to be pulled along with the strength I give it.
The engine never needs refueling for it runs on my regurgitated
"what about me " tears of steam.
This train passes by with an endless clacking drone
although it's caboose has never been seen at the station.

Night falls, lights dim, windows empty,
and the conductor sleeps.
It's cargo is for me alone;
but it's to often shared with the ones that have heard it
until their ears bleed.
Replenished each morning I awake from my repeated dreams'
nightmare.

Hear me now for these word I speak have impaled my independence from tomorrow's, yesterday's.

AND SHALL DO SO AS LONG AS I GIVE THEM LISTEN

our fathers son who art in heaven
came down to take the blame.
Man had sinned against our God
and lay dishonor to His name.

We push away and go astray
from the will of Jesus Christ.
We don't believe so then we're deceived
and lay open to evil ways.

His sons and daughters denied Him
to justify earthly greed
He was criticized and crucified
and left on the cross to bleed.

Look inside for His eternal guide
to His love and faithful hand.
He gave his life our Jesus Christ
so we would understand.

To give yourself completely
is not an easy thing.
But until you do, he'll walk with you
and knock again and again.

He'll never give up
it's not his way
there's nothing He can't do.
So give yourself all to Him
and you'll have His power too.
C HSPAR

For me the evergreen and or Christmas tree are the symbol of winter love.
Family gathered together sharing time which can be hard to find during the abby-normal week.
It's driving cars, boarding planes, boats and trains to get to your other home.
It's one of the few times a year when cooking and cleaning for large numbers doesn't **** you off.     AS MUCH!!!!
It's sitting down for hours with loved ones you've not seen for to long.
It's sharing stories witch otherwise would have gone missing.

Putting up the Christmas tree is a call out to everyone that it's time to stop for awhile and get together.
Time and distance may separate us however nothing comes between the family tree.  
Her roots are deep and strong.  The tree knows not of clocks, snow or sun; nor reasons why we can't.
The soul purpose of the family tree is to gather her children together.  Her branches are many, they reach out in every direction and continue to grow.
All trees have inner rings which tell of their age and time spent standing watch.
We have rings also however we call them wrinkles.  
Regardless of the names these lines are called, they silently speak of the years spent, whether they be good, bad, happy or sad. Yet many of those rings are an accumulation of a gathering of memories from our sub-conscience of family times which mean something special to us.    

The whole family each and everyone become the ornaments on the tree.
Together we make the room bright, warm and happy.
We create the magic of the holiday.
The snow falls, threes are white, our tongues catch the flakes and the sleds scream downhill.  Or, the sun shines, the palms sway, the tops down and the boards meet the curl.  Either way the next year seems better.  The days are wrapped with ribbon, the clouds aren't as dark and special memories have been given and received.  We thank each and everyone for a great, white, warm, wonderful Christmas.
You gave us presents we could carry with us through the New Year;
YOURSELVES