Christmas Street

I close my eyes.

 

I see cinnamon and mace,

crisp snow, and tinsel garlands hang,

hear children sing the songs we sang

of frosty windows webbed like lace.

 

Oh to be in Christmas Street,

and taste the cake and turkey there,

to fly in frozen curling air

instead of sleepless summer heat!

 

Oh to rest in covers white

of icy lakes and pine-tree rain,

instead of waking here again,

in moonless sun and sunless night!

 

I close my eyes.