Christmas

I’m drowsy, Love; mindful of you, my Love: it’s Christmas, Love; where parents sip, while children frolic, playful with eggnog. We love this way, fretted by motives this way, passing gifts this way. It becomes life, to see that smile, that feeling of mindfulness; to relish in joys, a bit more excited, while siblings are overwhelmed. You’re nearing adulthood; that racing wit; this portrait of intuition; to climb heaven, with arms reaching—so terrible that inner mischief; to feel alarmed, trekking through grayness, surfing websites. We love a swan: it’s ever that night; where hell invaded our cottage: this place of passions; that bible so near; this type of new language. You ought to read it: it controls so much; some of the greatest literature. I’m drowsy, Love; mindful of you, my Love: its mercy, Love; as dining forgiveness; this man of mirrors; to grant it to self. It becomes reality, to pardon our woes, crawling through portraits; to grow this way, heavy at minds that way, as to rearview life this way. I peer at cats, that delicate nature, as fierce as panthers; while seated in self, such delicate porcelain, to raise a paw and claw a couch.

It’s easy, my Love; gathering thoughts, my Love: it’s difficult, Love; that time of year, where many are probing souls, this small investment; to dance at checkers or I-O-You or more this feeling of presence; while mothers are silent, to ponder with joys—a pair of swanic souls; as graced with culture, forever at sins—something venial. I sit in thoughts, counting trains, this metaphor for events; those tropes of lights, as driven by force—this new person; to change daily—a friend that second—a stranger that moment. It comes with growth—a picture as signs, a claw as harbingers. I imagine candy canes, and gingerbread houses, or more, that string for souls; where Love is swooning, staring at gifts, as one to open come evening. It’s gentle this way, to remember joys this way, to forge bonds this way. I’m drowsy, Love; mindful of you, my love: it’s Christmas, Love; that inner orchestra, those caroling muses, that Red Nose Reindeer.