Sitting here by the woodstove,
feeling puzzled in my mind.
Drowning myself in every bottle,
of whatever I can find.
Trying to lose consciousness
and forget about my fear.
Of ending up all alone,
on Christmas this year.
Earlier in the day,
I went browsing through the store.
Had the perfect gift for you,
I was feeling pretty sure.
But I threw it away back on the shelf,
turned and let out a tear.
I wandered home with my eyes on the ground,
Thinking I’ll be alone on Christmas this year.
Staggered in, collapsed on the bed,
with the weight of the world on top of me.
Despite being surrounded by festive lights,
darkness was all that I could see.
Sinking down in body and feeling,
as the time, it drew near.
On the lake atop my pillow,
I’d be alone on Christmas this year.
I got up to clear my head,
before I dwindled in my chair.
The only thing I really wanted,
was just to see you there.
But all I see now are the decorations,
of Santa and his reindeer.
They’ll be the only company I’ll have,
if I’m alone on Christmas this year.
Eyelids surrendering to fatigue,
as the flames in the stove flicker out.
Wishing my mind would do the same,
and extinguish any doubt.
The sun falls below the horizon,
and all the shadows disappear.
Another day gone and another day closer,
to being alone on Christmas this year.
Morning light unveils my place,
still saddled to my chair.
I languidly gazed at my tree,
and couldn’t help but stare.
All my family and friends are here,
bringing gifts and spiritual cheer.
I smiled and realized that even without you,
I wouldn’t be alone on Christmas this year.
Dever writes from Woodbine.
