Christmas Cards        

 
These decorated bits of paper tell so much,

As the old and lonely know,

Unwishing to be seen as such.

How each is hoped for, looked for, prized, and put on show,

Their envelopes even kept

When other things are swept

Away, away, Oh, far away.

And from the inky messages of cheerfulness

They scrutinize

Smiles arise

And at a strange address

Someone who cares for them is seen like Christ to bless

The whole day long

With expanding happiness.

This is why death is very hard for them to bear,

If it is not their own,

Meaning a missing card among

The few they stare

At when alone.

They might, perhaps, despair,

If they did not look forward to parties up there,

When those who wrote to them will be

More shining than a Christmas tree.