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.