What's this, mother?
- I don't know, Let's discover!
What could be in this bag?
- Oh, look, a pair of gloves and mistletoe!
A Santa magic ball and two pine cones;
three angels with flutes, a bow and Christmas *****.
Oh, look! A heart and ginger bread...
And Apple Rolls! You remembered!
the child jumps around joyously dancing
- You remembered! You remembered!
- I sure did!
The night is slowly falling, her cover of dark ink
Dolling.

Blessed a night,
With no fallacy snowflakes cover the grounds,
The air touched
With white fairies, unique, caressing memoirs
Pristine hearts.

Blessed, the moon rises
Above pine trees and fir, at the pass of each cloud
Staring into the dark proud.

The hour of kisses under mistletoe arrives.
Cards, still, lingering on tables, in the air sweetness of cake,
Paces of a stranger showing a loner path,
Caramel whiff, Carols lift into the drizzling canopy,
Bells tolling, memories falling and calling
For help.

He knows nothing of this, the loner,
Empty his heart, leaving all hope behind,
Refilled with tears,
His mind produces magical dreams.

In praise of past illusions, love for life,
Love for laughter, love for the lost...
Rebirth of love divine,
In loved shells chosen,
The sky's bright darkness manifests.

Of clear conception,
Inception, blue fill...
To come on the morrow
When Santa's gifts we'll find
Under our trees,
When hearts of true will offer
More than empty smiles
And a cup of coffee...

A sign of blissful charm, enchanting
A world devoid of magic and love.

"Better to be cold than destroyed,
Crushed under the mighty need to feel all-mighty.
Better a cold star than a burden
To your own world."

Of pristine conception,
Inception, blue fill...
Love means sacrifice
And sacrifice's treated today
For stupid act of treason to the self,
To good old reason...
Charms enchanting cups of hot chocolate
To ease a child's pain.

In praise of past illusions, love for life,
Love for laughter, love for the lost...
Rebirth of love divine,
In loved shells chosen,
The sky's bright darkness manifests.

The hour of kisses under mistletoe comes back.
Cards, toys, ribbons and lights floored, flavour of cheesecake,
Shadows of the past and footprints left around,
Caramel whiff, Carols lifted to gently touch the angels,
Bells tolling, memories falling and calling
For help.

Blessed, the moon rises
Above pine trees and fir, at the pass of each cloud
Staring into the dark aloud.

Christmas used to be
So much planning, for me
Piles of presents under the tree
Singing carols by the piano with glee
Excitement months too early
Now, as I come home for the day
Too tired to even consider to play
Happy just listening for the bells of the sleigh
We’ll light the fire, and beside it we’ll lay
Together tonight, despite hearts far away

(spot the Carol)

These three kings of orient are  
unfairly competing with one little drummer boy,  
all dashing through the snow for the last boughs of holly  
to lay them before the King.

Meanwhile three ships come sailing in  
and certain poor shepherds leave their hot chestnuts,
each keen to hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace.  

Later,
in Royal David’s city,  
there are ladies leaping, pipers piping
and drummers …
drumming,  apparently.  
The restless cattle are lowing big-time;  
no wonder the baby’s awake.

All have come to proclaim the Messiah’s birth;  
the king-of-angels  baby who out-shines any wondrous star.  
A child born of Mary, on this most holy of nights;  
born to give us second birth:  
This is the Saviour who is Christ the Lord,  
come to redeem us all.

‘Come – receive – your - king.’

Merry Christmas.

Over the river
And through Grant Woods
Through Hallmark scenes we go.
Through colors of white
That are not quite right
Not even for ******-on snow.

If Currier and Ives
Tends to give you the hives
You really might not want to go.
By now we have cars
And thank your stars
No shoes for the horse to throw.

Old men in jeans
In bucolic scenes
From a hundred years ago.
Don’t be in a rush
As driving through slush
Can cause accidents, you know.

Turkey and dressing
And Parker rolls
May suit the day just fine,
But a warning here
I’ll make it clear
You might not like mulled wine.

When you have eaten
While women work
The men can go off and drink.
The men getting *******
A seasonal disgrace,
The gals keep their minds on the sink.

Later while driving back ,
The men passed out,
The women behind the wheel.
They women all try
To figure out why
They go through this yearly ordeal.

Just like the snow outside,
His heart is cold and white..
He doesn't want to sing carols,
He doesn't want a sleigh ride..

He wants to sit in cimmerian shade
and sink in his mindfulness
to reach the jolly memories
when she was by his side..
Just like the snow outside,
His heart is cold and white..