The times I spent awaiting gifts
Wrapped in closets dark,
Anticipating life's sweet things,
The family would park
Outside a house That was lit
from top to bottom with lights
And it wasn't about the presents, then

The stores are packed
Parking lots are filled with dirty snow
Tears will freeze as ice cracks
Beneath boots without their linings
Waxy skin with lukewarm water
Run on my feet to return the
Circulation.

I'll make my own Christmas.
We'll have our own warmth and appreciation
In a world with such cold ways
We'll have our own dishes
Of good love and solidness
Floating ribbons good wishes
We'll make our own Christmas.

David Mell lives in the 3rd Ward and works as a CNA and writes poetry when he can. He grew up on the north side, when bears still lived “in town,” and he even saw one once, long ago. Check out his soundcloud page.