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.



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Check out for my original stories, one chapter at a time. features my original poetry, mental health advocacy and deep thoughts. Thanks for following and reading.

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