THOUGHTS OF A POET IN THE RAIN

Monday morning and another Christmas has slid past with children’s smiles a mile wide at times underneath parents warm gazes and amidst phrases said a million times before.  Dishes filled with tasty treats, and lots of meats that somehow vanished amid holiday traditions and numerous renditions of comments and songs so carefully and lovingly shared for a moment in time most of the world stopped and cared about the neighbor down the street and smiled as we went out and came to meet those whom we pass regularly without but without recognitions being passed.  Christmas, while I dislike you most happily I am that you are past while wishing the feelings would remain throughout the years.