I found you again tonight
On the corner of Fourth and Third;
And at fourteen and fifteen
On a trail of our own making,
We were going the "half-way"
And had stopped mid-vacant-lot
Over the ditch beyond the brambles.

The day had been a holyday
Of familial frolic and festivity,
But the night was finally ours.
And after my mother's pumpkin
And your father's mince,
We sought the independent
Dark edge of the real world.

Our words were of Winston,
Winter, and the West Marsh;
Our hearts set somewhere in
The semi-wilds of Middle-Earth;
Our minds no doubt on Serpents
That had or did or could or not
Or "oh so obviously might be."

- - - -
And the snow still falls purely
As the years too certainly would,
Blanketing divergence with
Inherent and impending adversity.
But we knew the truth of Christmas,
And its bright everlasting candle
Will surely guide us home.

12/25/2003

Author's Note: For Delose, and may our present ever conjure past into our future.

Posted on 12/26/2003
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes