Reflected Tears
The child is gone.
The tree is here.
The village windows lit.
Laughter’s left. Joy’s remiss.
Mistletoe brings no kiss.
A sad sight, alone at night,
not one to bring true cheer.
The child is gone.
The Christmas tree is here.
The village’s windows lit.
Beneath the tree the gifts are wrapped
mere tokens, reflect the tears.
The child within, the child without.
The scarcity is clear.
No amount of Christmas lights can quell
the loneliness I feel.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2009
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