It is this time of the year,
Shortest cloudy days,
Deep dark shadows,
Longest nights.
Lonely soulful hours
Candle lit,
Flickering flame
In unseen wind,
Instants where words
Become friends or foes
Depending on their mood,
Keeping company
To Frosty nights
With no Yuletide
To distract.
Quiet empty time
To think and reflect
About absent loved ones
Crisp clear sky
High above the roof.
Rising and spreading slowly
The fragrant gumtree smoke
Pervades the air,
Bringing home comfort
To the restless head
Heavy on the pillow
Falling in a dreamless slumber
In hope of a longer brighter day
On the morrow.
Lucette C. Bailliet
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