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Last light gives a glimpse of the school bus hulk
By the pond, then both darkness and snow fall,
The bus leaning into the storm, its door
Open, beckoning children home, Christmas
Come.  I am traveling north for Yuletide,
No hearth to greet me, a wife, but no wife.
Nog and rocky road fudge bars beckon me.
Instead of rum warmth, the quiet snowfall
And Noel wind to lean against, the man
Of sorrows' birth to welcome.  The parties
Swirl in my mind like stale wine in a glass.
I've been one year too long without Christmas
In my own home, my own tradition, ham
Baking, English toffee--made myself--nuts
Topping cookies, well-chosen gifts for friends
Well-chosen, a fresh tree lit with pin lights.
My dreams like a child dead before conceived
Tap after me on sullen feet, and as
I step off the Americruiser, I
Wish to hear your Jess squeal when first she sees
Her second tree, and wish her squeal were mine.

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