When I Look Into The Warm Glow Of The Christmas Fire

Six stockings hang on the mantlepiece,

Where the fire crackles and glows,

The colored lights dance on the Christmas tree,

Where you left your heart;

White snow falls softly on the ground,

But in the distance,

Your little laughs still sound.

It's been eighteen years since you were children,

Opening presents under the tree,

I still listen for the rustle of paper,

As you tear into them with glee.

My tears flow frozen,

icicles dancing on the window pane;

Though,

As I look into the warm glow of the Christmas fire,

I smile;

As your childhood memories come to life.