Frost decorates the limbs of trees as I stroll down a path I
have wandered many times, ice sleeves for bare limbs, ornaments for the
evergreen too early to be Christmas and yet, close enough, the Lord &
Taylor windows filled with images of a world I wished I lived in, the perfect
little village with perfect little people, none of whom are me, though in
looking back from last Christmas to this, I think maybe you are, even though
you no longer share the same village I live in, we both aware that our world has
altered too fundamentally to fit in any store window, where business sells
illusion, and love is not what we thought it was, high road or not.
I stroll through a wood mother nature as decorated, no tiny
people, no phony sleights, just the harsh bit of coming winter on my cheek and
the wish for the sound of reindeer that will never come, the old song playing
perpetually in my head as I walk, all I really want for Christmas is you.
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