Christmas Season
Leaves with specs of gold,
Gently dance above the earth,
The tree is now bare.
Jesus is the vine,
We are pruned by God to grow,
The branches bear fruit.
The Christmas season,
A kissing mistletoe glance,
Dancing and merry.
Lonely winter land,
Skiing with rain turned to slush,
Tears turned to sadness.
A warm sunny ray,
A thrill that lasts to the end,
Falling icicles.
Copyright © Ronald Bunch | Year Posted 2013
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