Christmas Eve.

It’s Christmas Eve
And I’m alone again.
The weight in my chest,
Beats its miserly refrain.

The room is cold,
And the fire is fading,
The glass in my hand,
Is the third that I’m drinking.

A soft noise behind me,
A scrape and a click.
I turn and I look
And the weight gives a flick.

An angel is there,
Standing at the room’s door.
A smile warms her face,
And she glides across the floor.

I rise to my feet, and try to talk,
But think of nothing to say.
A feather-brush of a kiss on my cheek,
She knows that I want her to stay.

She takes my hands firm into hers,
And into my eyes, she stares.
I don’t need to talk, to say a word
She can read it all, its all there.

She can see how grateful I am,
And she knows how much I love her.
She can see the thousand emotions,
Under her gaze, I couldn’t be barer.

She leads me to the chair, and grateful I sit,
Not trusting my legs long to brace.
Still no words, not a thing is said,
Just a lean in, and brush, face to face.

Romeo’s blushing pilgrims do fleeting meet,
A delicate kiss, then we part.
A second at most, but this second boasts,
Of replacing my weight with a heart.

Truly this is the Greatest of Gifts,
And truly the surest surprise.
The girl that I love, arrives unannounced
To make me the luckiest alive.

The kiss is over, the nights just begun,
We lean in and love once more
Unlike the first, this kiss lasts long
And of itself, and us, we are sure.