A LONELY CHRISTMAS

The mistletoe sways in the draught of the incoming guests, hanging
expectantly at the front door,
 
berries white and pure, flirting with the notion of a tryst below
its wild, smooth leaves
 
           yet this evergreen
 
               is never seen
 
It hangs in dismay as people pass and laugh,
 
Christmas fun,    games to be played,   and songs to be sung,
 
What is this joy of Christmas?    a season to share, a moment to
contemplate,     and a time to love
 
The mistletoe falls still,  all have arrived, the door no longer gives
momentum to its verve,
 
a stalactite of tradition that oversees the expression of love and
kindness,
 
              in solitude
 
Festive joy too selfish to notice this lonely branch,
 
Then a face of freckles and blue sparkling stars looks up in admiration
and bewilderment,
 
and as her mother’s hands embrace her plump fair cheeks,     kissing
away all doubt,
 
              the mistletoe sways with joy and bestows a berry,  
 
                        a gift for being a friend.