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Christmas Eve
How is it her absence
is stronger, at time,
than her presence?
She is
a melody recalled
in silence;
a memory enthralled
with being remembered.
The anticipation of December.
A lover waiting
for her kindred's call.
She is
a love letter in transit.
The coming breath
that keeps you alive,
the cure
you never thought you needed.
The tears
tomorrow cried.
She is
my tendency to love;
my inclination
for a kiss.
She's Christmas Eve...
As a child, I was fascinated
As a child, I was fascinated how Christmas---Eve and Day---was so excitedly anticipated in early Autumn, and was so poignantly missed or regretted into late January. This poem spoke to those memories quite eloquently.
Starward