I Write Poetry
Another Christmas
The stockings they hung there on the wall.
The tree twinkled with lights so small.
Presents sat all around but not a present for her could be found.
There was not enough money or he simply ran out of time.
She always heard the same excuses.
The same worn out line.
But she told herself next year will be different and she wiped away her tears.
And again as everyone sat around the tree ready to unwrap, she was left with nothing on her lap.
She hid her pain with a smile simply placed as she looked around at the joy on every face.
She wanted nothing more than to hide.
To run to her room and cry.
Though she sat there telling herself another lie.
Next year will be different.
Everything will be fine.
(all my poetry is mine and subjected to copyright)
The stockings they hung there on the wall.
The tree twinkled with lights so small.
Presents sat all around but not a present for her could be found.
There was not enough money or he simply ran out of time.
She always heard the same excuses.
The same worn out line.
But she told herself next year will be different and she wiped away her tears.
And again as everyone sat around the tree ready to unwrap, she was left with nothing on her lap.
She hid her pain with a smile simply placed as she looked around at the joy on every face.
She wanted nothing more than to hide.
To run to her room and cry.
Though she sat there telling herself another lie.
Next year will be different.
Everything will be fine.
(all my poetry is mine and subjected to copyright)
41-45, F
