The trees are out on the curb, bare and forgotten,
Christmas packed away in leftover boxes,
January bares its teeth, and the cold sinks in,
Leaving only memories to warm my heart again.
Tinsel and stockings, stuffed out of sight,
Lights unplugged beneath snow’s heavy white.
The ‘Silent Night’ fades, its echo grown still,
Saint Nick retreats from the bitter chill.
People go back to their busy, indifferent lives,
Shoving returns across counters, no joy in their eyes.
And me, I’m just sitting here, lost in the space,
Where joy once lingered, now an empty place.
Your laughter danced through the pine-scented air,
A gift of which no other could compare.
Christmas now feels like a story half-told,
Adrift in a season grown hollow and cold.
