Letter

We write our Christmas letter
Red ink on dusty snow
Fine drops and ink
The boughs are cut
Thick foliage shapes our shoulders
Like a coat
We walk amongst the city spires
The place of our dreams
Look all around us
Refuse to believe
Our arms are bare
We apply a balsam against the cold
Keep walking
Never stop
Run and play
Feel the cool breeze blowing our hair
We are free for now
Keep the letter in our pocket
Hold it tight
Like crushed glass and lucky pennies
We will draw upon it when needed
That is the magic of Christmas
Warm berries and still nights.