Leave the red rose kiss behind the door,
but not the favourite cap and coat; be yourself again,
inhale icy December, exhale all the
even for tonight.
Wander down the stony bridge nearby, gentle, indigo waves rippling below,
returning you back to the time when you were moons younger
and he was a still a blur
to your lady little heart.
As if on routine, you’ll resurrect
dusty records from the grave,
melodies from Sinatra, Woods and Goodman
to comfort the lonely soul, validating tears, simultaneously
drowsing you to your dreams.
End of dusk,
stars wake from their slumber
to waltz around the sky.
Only holiday blues will stay up tonight.