A Christmas Poem for the Lonely

Poem

I know the sleigh bells are ringing
and the Furs are more Noble than they are
any other time of the year.
Fire places usually dark and dusty
are finally lit and kept company
by the family it yearns to burn for
every other month of the year,
and inside all is warmth.

I know the Furs are on every street corner
quietly waiting to let down their scented skirts,
and this year I prefer their Nobility still wrapped
in their tight, plastic nets.
I admire the fireplace grey and ashen and unlit,
alone in just enough darkness
to match the resounding indifference
I have felt every month of this year,
inside me silence.

more by A. M. Laine

photograph by Josh Felise

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