Spirit Found
He wasn't into the season he said.
The past had wrapped him up blue.
But now I'm getting into his head.
Like nothing he ever knew.
Baby's hanging the lights up high.
Singing the words to each song.
Drinking wassail when evening's nigh
and the Christmas moon grows long.
His yuletide spirit holds no doubt.
For that I am to blame!
In the snowdrifts we laugh and shout.
He'll never be the same!
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
