Christmas Gift

If I could steal the fire from those eyes and take them to rule the darkest skies, We would sit every wintry December near an adorned pine tree to remember: when a chorus cried a Christmas’ melody, You held my heart under your custody. While I untie a bow after a bow, giving you three kisses over the brow, You show me the final wrapped gift: A green butterfly on the finger you lift. I blow softly and she flies faraway, You are all mine on this Christmas day.