Lonely, in the cold, do I sit and peer
into your warm windows, seeing those you hold dear.
I buffet the blustering wind with my girth,
with tophat, a pipe, a scarf, singing my silent dirge.
I long for your life, to be wrapped within love,
gathering under the Tree, top capped with a lit dove.
If only I could curl up with blankets, cocoa, cherished ones,
but as it stands now, I would just turn to slush and mud.
So in solitude I sit, with only the wind for comp’ny,
but with family, friends, and warmth, would I rather be.