Festivities lurking in the midst
and thoughts of feasts and laughter,
but malcontent sits chambers deep
in a heart which is now so somber.
For beyond the window a pallid, icy mist
seems to hang about,
Dull, heavy, whitish-gray,
kissed by cold winter’s mouth.
Chilled to the bones by it’s frosty breath,
as it sneaks through padded clothes.
Warmed only by thoughts of family time,
hot chocolate and mistletoes.
Dancing flames in the fireplace,
herald messages within its blaze,
"This short dark day with the hidden sun,
has 24 hours,
then from tomorrow, longer days will come."
©MoMoGrOw