Never having experienced a white Christmas
and with an almost illogical disdain for snow,
I smile peacefully at the clear blue sky -
sun shining brightly over cool world below.
Mother's house is small, but warm.
Brother and sisters crowd around the tree,
passing around gifts, stories, small-talk
and the occasional winter memory.
Lying on the ugly orange couch, half-dozing
I eavesdrop on them, feigning sleep -
reveling in the more risque tales
and newfound family secrets, hidden deep.
When the day ends, we say goodbye -
my brother's beard scratchy as he hugs me,
My sisters uptight, sweet, and clueless in turn
as they say farewell and make to leave.
Never having experienced a white Christmas,
and with an almost illogical disdain for snow,
I watch from the porch and feel loneliness
as again, the season goes.
