It’s 20 days to Christmas and all through the house, the
cats are a stirring, and I feel like a mouse, huddled under covers with my nose
in the cold, no Santa expected, not even to bring me coal, a haze in my head I
can’t seem to clear, no Xmas cards to send, no hope of good cheer, no temptation
to send well-wishes, no address find, no presents to wrap save for the ones in
my mind, the heater in the living room doing nothing at all, to warm me the way
she did as I recall, a kitten for company flat at my feet, while the distance
between us is to vast to reach, and I wonder if Santa will ever find a way to
deliver his greetings on this coldest of days, no card will I send her if ever
knew how, no text message to deliver, no tiding for now, just chill of the season
as I ponder her fate, the coming of Santa bringing his cheer way too late.
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