Bitter as Winter

greg skidmore
Bitter as winter
I trudge through
the drifting holiday.
All the trappings, wrappings
and humbug leaves
me cold
until I reach out
and the little boy
takes my hand.
Magic misplaced or
mistaken is reborn
in a simple gesture.
A profusion of grace
from innocent wonder.

Published by greg skidmore

30 years a professional chef now retired and involved in commentary, creative writing and all things lyrical  View profile

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