Silver white snowflakes falling steady
by the light of a sliver moon.
The smell of sparkling cinnamon
warms a firelit room
filled with Merry Christmas makers
drunk on the promises of stars wished upon all the year through…
Jingle bells and mistletoe,
Popped corn strands strung
Blown spheres of glass hung
in hues of deepest red, blue and green glowing.
A flaxen-haired angel sitting proudly atop
a tall and handsomely tinseled tree
in all her ivory finery
A thousand tiny lights twinkling,
if eyes squint just right,
light filtered through hazelnut-rimmed irises
reflect rays of amber and white.
Soon cherubic babes will take delight
in the flight of dreams
Their angel wings nestled safely
into downy beds of purest white.
Watching their sleep,
long lashes lying soft upon cheeks
still crimson from winter’s frosty kiss.
Hurry, hurry, musn’t be late!
The old Grandfather gongs its reminder…
Cue the sugarplums please,
hang the stockings with care.
And now, at last
the familiar clatter
I’d been longing to hear!
There he is, breathless,
blue eyes blinking in disbelief
as I close the pine-perfumed space
between us and say,
“Kiss me like you’ve not seen me for
three hundred sixty-five days,
like you’ll not for three hundred sixty-four more.”
~ J. J. Cannon