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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


2 thoughts on “Anticipation

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