The air was turning crisp,
It was frosty outside,
People wore their cozy coats,
Their was a sparkle in everyone's eyes,
The fireplace was lit,
Some sat by the fire,
Snowflakes started falling from the sky,
From up a little higher.
Beanie hats were bought,
Some preferred some with bobbles on the top,
Everyone was running round from shop to shop.
A few golden lights,
Were seen from the streets,
A woman lit a candle,
& placed her hands above the heat.
A robin landed on her wall,
Just outside her house,
The sign of winter on its way,
November is nearly out.

You are invited to come
to dine with me
From now through all Eternity, Believe in the father, Son, and the Holy Ghost
And dine with the Lord
as your host
To live in Heaven Eternally,
All you must do is.? 

R.S.V.P
~~
Kariinbba: Inspired by bible.

(my fashionably late xmas greeting
could long foster for this century 21 a meeting
of thee poetic minds pleasantry sent once
   boot not worth reap peat ting).

up in the air
mine barrel sized girth
   sloshes with cheap beer
wishing many strangers

   happy holidays and good cheer
making me suitable
   as santa claus and his team of rein deer
chewing gum to avoid

   popping in both left and right ear
yet the rickety sleigh
   may not become air borne I fear
landing ungracefully
   scattering presents and gear

if wooden contraption alights,
   a horrendous crash many will hear
no doubt instigating
   children and adults to jeer

comparing this jolly fellow to king lear
yet running for the hills
   as this mad man gets considerably near
the madding crowd,

   who expected a more
   healthy saint nick to a pear
with healthy physique
   instead of the trademark outsize rear

which cause for observers
   to guffaw and sneer
whereby my trademark suit
   will seemingly tear

and reveal that this clown
   wears frilly under wear
prompting me to avoid
   accepting this role for next year.

Holly berries drip wet with rain.
They seem painted against the dark green leaves
like a Thomas Kinkade piece,
the ones my grandmother loved.

The sky is a gloomy grey hanging over the town,
not so that it brings me down,
only makes me feel wrapped in the rain the clouds cry,
swimming through the afternoon.

Ah, what a day it is to be alive,
lying in the grass, soaked wet from weather
while dreaming snow meets the soggy ground
and rests atop the holly berries.

If I could read you like a book
I’d read you from cover to cover.
What would I find as each leaf turned over
To find me more and more hooked?

Your expression the preface?
Your walk the reference?
Your thoughts - the appendix?
You should copyright all these.

Your table of contents
Your chapters and headings,
Short stories or pretense,
Or expression of longings.

Each page a blessing
Reader and writer forever conjoined.
Read/Writing without resting
No writer’s block or pages deformed.

One page flying into another
As the story of you unfolds.
Could I be a footnoted lover
With a love that remolds?
Or perhaps the main character,
One to gray and grow old?

Placing one hand on your spine
While the other opens the divine.
Oh if only I could read you like a book
I’d read you from cover to cover

Memorize every line.