Adieu to the rumbling gyrations,
Goodbye to the running
generations,
generations,
In the season of yuletide
reflections.
reflections.
Christmas in the gully air,
Fathers singing the jingle bells,
And mothers playing the cooking
pots.
pots.
Tis’ the season of immense happiness,
From the little gifts that counts,
To the pecks of infinite amazing
grace.
grace.
Albeit all the spirited fun,
Little kids playing the reindeer,
In my solitary silence, Christmas
knocked.
knocked.
Into the redeemed solitude, I
withdrew,
withdrew,
To the dark shining little room of
peace,
peace,
Watching the dancing snowfall
yawn.
yawn.
By the fire place with a slurry
heart,
heart,
I cloaked myself in self-Christmas.
Alone! Yes, alone with just
myself.
myself.
Not going to join the mass.
Far from the ones I loved,
I’m having a silent Christmas.
Written by Tokede Daniel
danatoks@gmail.com
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