Happy Christmas

This Christmas allow me to gently dream of dimmed lights, a simmering fireplace, snow drifting softly through glossy french doors outside and a silent, musing barefoot dance on a warm carpet to Tori's A Silent Night With You.

Untitled Scribble at Christmas Time

No need for uncomfortable silences
No tribute to modern conveniences
No trite hymns to gifts of frankincense and myrrh
I didn't want anything for Christmas

These gifts gave me nothing to hold
If not of hope, not worth a weight in gold
I'd wished for a thought, a photograph, a signal
Being stubborn to stifle a memory as I was told.

Not a shameless plug to the holiday album I never thought Tori would make, but I like to think that Christmas would be lit by the traditional this season, filled with the thoughtful tunes from old instead of the jolly holiday faves played on the radio.