Sonya,I got your comic Christmas card •
In a bed-sit Santa irons red suits alone •
But I hear tom-cats screech in your back •yard
And Santa’s smile conceals an inward groan.
For while you wrap bright parcels,show good cheer,
Weave plans to please the young and innocent,
Under lock and key you store a secret tear,
And out of bottles ,pour your merriment.
When to-morrow’s happy apparition fades,
Who will know of Santa’s lonely preparation?
As you put away the paper and the tinsel braids
Christmas will remain a yearly decoration.
Sonya, there is a gift that givers have to dare,
Trust, which grows evergreen,when sorrow first you share.