In the Tiny Town of Bethlehem

Reserving the right to break away unto a clear blue day; viewing Certain labels upon the bottles and cans; time reeling in chains.... And they say that patience is a virtue as I drop them from my hands Exiting lifes alleyways; fingers brushing atop the gray mortared bricks Whileas peering at the clearing just ahead; resolve unto resolutions Tossing this worn book into a bin; combing my pockets for a pen A crumpled piece of paper to take another note; a cobweb or two Lingering amid the trees in columns aligned aside yesterdays mist.... Reaching for the door to escape another winters morn; familiar the Crowd greeting myself as I enter in; a warm cup of coffee awaiting With a kiss upon the cheek and a towel to dry my hair; songs of cheer Tossing this bag of cans and bottles into the corner; afore the fire.... Reeling in chains reserved for the warmth upon a clear blue day; breaking Glasses joyfully within the place; such light piercing through this window In the shape of a star swaying atop my palm; searching deep my pockets Scribbled somewhere are these notes; reflections etched aneath a bridge Laughing now as reading aloud; 'tis good to see you again my child'.... ************************************************************** ...."Coming Home for The Holidays" *