I walked along the Yuletide Alley,
While clenching my December sweater,
Red streaks heralded lovely weather
An eastward pry I slowly offered,
Small children seen in tawdry get-ups,
Yet sang they dearly like brumal birds,
In open arms, got treats in thin wraps
Midnight impending meant heading home,
And least Iโve seen were two morose boys,
With fifteen dimes from singing alone,
Bought paltry bread, slept with scavenged toys
Stepped on, Iโve seen amid breaking tears,
A stolid man from a car of brand,
Hitherto, he merely was for years,
For an affluent house, a roadman
Christmas for him was servility,
Miles heโd drive, crossed meandering zones,
Yet not once, did with his family,
Smitten with the dream he only hones
I looked upon a dainty mansion,
Ebullient scenes Iโve hearkened also,
A banquet so lavish to mention,
Placated tongues with a giddy glow,
And so, I moved a few feet forward,
Under a post lamp wept two lovers,
Seemed no yuletide day could mar their guard,
Departed he, her mirth fell over
Staggered I was after trotting forth,
A woman carrying her newborn,
Met my guise, a quizzical comfort,
The child remained a Christmas memoire
Left behind the eclectic alley,
So gay or grim are peopleโs seasons,
Though one canโt look beyond all valleys,
Kindness should bind all daughters and sons.
Literary by Hans Noble, Writer
Graphics by Dylan Francis Clarete, Artist
Comments