Shadows blink, Christmas lights twinkle, bright white, bright pink, on and off, on and off.
Yet no golden-present miracle nor present-giver appears, two times a loss of Christmas miracles for me, for me.
It seems an utter sham to swathe a house with fir, a house devoid of spirit and of cheer, cheery me, cheery me.
Will hark the herald angels music sing or let it snow drifts, will music change this feeling, feeling off, on and off, on and off.
Shadows lose their sparkle now, the day’s hope fading, the light turns dark, the bulb’s burned out, and so it goes.
Then there I go, off I go,off I go, off I go.
(from the archives)