By Robin McNamara
The silent night crisped the air
With white stillness.
Although; this Christmas can’t
compare to ones gone before.
The fire awaits and the lights
Are on neighboring houses,
Windows smiling with light.
We tell the story of a Bethlehem
Journey, that we need now
More than ever before.
Silent Night fills the air,
The holidays seem to be the
Only thing we can embrace,
In a time of gloves and masks
And uncertainty of family gatherings.
This Christmas will not compare
To ones to come and ones gone.
Deborah Horton Writing 