With loneliness neart too much to bear
I face this Christmas season
clinging to my last thin shreds of hope
that I shall know a reason
to continue into the coming year
a life so incomplete
palpable: my lonely longing
for a kindred soul to meet
Solely in need of a true heart
to save my waning passions
a breeze to fan my flagging zeal
one with similar compassion
whose love and caring would prove real . . .
With heavy breast and tattered psyche
I enter this hallowed time
with no aroma of festive cookies
or scent of Yuletide pine
to decorate my senses -
no trimmings for my lonely home;
I didn't bedeck this year
for I will only be alone.
I'm not in the mood for just myself
celebrating another single Noel.
Somehow it doesn't feel like Christmas
and my heart's not feeling well . . .
K.E.C., December 1997
