Christmas & Ink

It's that time of year


First snows, warm fires 

No greater desire

Than to huddle inside with a blanket-

Cider and chocolate and brown paper bags

Presents, and pine trees and musical trash

Families and friends and loves-

For the living. 

The dead have only frozen earth,

The faint sound of bells and mirth

The laughter of those that have forgotten-

Their brothers beneath the ground.

The End

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