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" *
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