she said,
she'd like to be called
christmas.
pretty lights
and gifts.
tinsel and snow falling.
the carols
the fire.
the warmth of family.
a healthy glow.
warm cookies on the stove.
but she wasn't a holiday.
she was more
like monday.
in the middle of march.
when the harsh
winds blow.
the streets piled with
the slush
of old grey snow.
full of misery,
self absorbed and
full of woe.
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