Read us the visit of St. Nick,
the myth of the man on this night.
With bread and a tasteful wine flight,
we can dance over politics.
Pull ornaments from the attic,
along the tinseled tangled star.
Sing old songs to build a new start,
while suicide sings louder still.
Tradition comforts all until
supernova sparkles depart.
December 29, 2020 at 6:30 pm
I think the last stanza is one people can connect with, more than you know. And it helps people to read something like that, just so they aren’t alone in their thoughts. Or am I overthinking this while considering jogging to the chemist? Still considering.
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December 29, 2020 at 6:55 pm
Not overthinking, well maybe you are, but so was I when I wrote it! Thanks for visiting my poem 🙂
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