THAT HOLY NIGHT
The holly smiled rapturously that holy night
Blood red berries soaked in your crimson aura
It was not the night of anticipation either
For upheavals cartwheeled in whirlpools
Tossing me on ocean breakers of nostalgia
It was a night of whispered wishes
Fingers crossed and eyes closed
Beneath the flourishing mistletoe
The old homeless grandpa shuffled
His aching feet in the sub zero freeze
Tarantulas of agony crawled up his bent spine
How could family be so heartless
On such a night of love?
Does an overflowing table with red roses
Ever mean what it is trying to convey?
He peeped surreptitiously through the window
With his eighty year old rheumy eyes
His granddaughter prancing around
In her frilly crimson dress
skipping around the sparkling Christmas tree
Gifts piled up in a humungous heap
Beneath the over burdened fir tree
A blizzard rose from his innards
Wrecking the festooning wreaths
A tempestuous night it was
Flinging the crimson bows
I gulped the lump in my throat
As I thought about that night
For I was that little girl
Whose grandpa was outdoors!
