First Day of Winter I

Kneeling in the snow,

Staring in through a window,

At Christmas lights and mistletoe—

A holiday not mine,

A warmth I couldn’t feel.

People gawk and whisper,

But I don’t go.

Light turns to dusk;

I’ve sat there for hours,

Waiting for her,

Though I know she isn’t there.

I get up,

Blinded by the snow,

Or was it my tears?

I hear someone calling my name—

Could it be her?

I take out my matchbox

And strike my first match.

I am bathed in light.

She’s standing there;

She takes my hand,

And I don’t let go.

I strike my second match.

She pulls me inside,

And I’m greeted with warmth and light.

The strangers wish me Happy Christmas;

Friends hug me tight.

I strike my last match;

It illuminates her face—

Rosy and beautiful as always,

My love, my one and only.

We kiss

For the first and last time

Under the mistletoe.

The match goes out,

But life is not a fairy tale.