Your Song
By Darmok
Your Song by Darmok 12-26-01 Blown away and drunk, the passing year is hearled. Voices ringing singing of ol’e angst eyes, quiet voices bringing. The new year quickly forgets, the red and green, displays. All for love of fellow man, the stores remove their trays. No man stands his vigil outside their doors dressed in red and white. No bells ringing, no children singing, Oh holy is the night. Where have you gone, oh spirit who’s light burned so bright. Your smiles have seemed to fade; from faces stiffend now turned away, their hearts seem a tadd less gay. Are you toss’d in heaps of trash, of colored paper and crush boxes slowly burning, yearning? The ending ritual of celebration putting away the cheer. We take down the dying season and lay her in the gutter and sweep away her green each year. One by one, lights and trimmings sealed away. As is ‘the day’, We box and store await next year. Another Christmas day. Is that where you are kept oh Lord all year long. In boxes and displays, We put away your song? Written December 26th, 2001 © on Dec 26 2001 03:00 AM PST, Darmok 0 • 13
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"Your Song..."