Christmas holds the gift
For years before she could not feel it
Lost in the snowy haze
Of her mind, she could not see it.
Selfish and contrived
Never by choice, but by sculpted faith
Or lack thereof, she wandered
Distracted from her place.
Here she has a home
With or without her knight
It’s more than she could bear
Her tears of joy followed by the sight —
Of a wish to have her heart
All to herself again
It may be in his hands —
Though, with love of self, she wins.
J.F
