The Introvert At The Christmas Party

My God, it’s loud in there.
She’ll be here soon and we’ll go in…

How long, I wonder, will she want to stay?
They must have spent ten thousand dollars on this place!

Oh look, I got three more “likes”…
I wonder how cold it’s supposed to get tonight?

Hey, there, sweetheart. Coats go over here.
I’ll tip her, I brought cash. Your hands are cold.

The Who’s? They own a funeral parlor. Got it.
Oh… he has cancer. How long? (He looks good…)

My gosh it’s loud in here. Say that again. What?!
There’s hardly room to squeeze through there. Let’s go around.

I think there’s someone I know over there.
He doesn’t remember me. Of course.

I’m not sure we’ll be able to find a place to sit.
Hello… hello… it’s nice to meet you… hello

Yes, Owen, that’s right. O-W-E-N. Um, fourteen years.
No, I’m not from here, I came from Florida. Twenty years.

What’s that? Who? No, I don’t remember them. The movies?
How long ago? (Excuse me. Is this the line?) What happened to them?

Divorces are ugly, that much I know. She does what now? (Hello.
I’m Owen. Yes, I’m with her.) The band is really loud. I know, they are good.


Ah, home.
You want to chill a whie? Fine with me.

To Dare or Dare Not —

Christmas morning,
And I wake up to find
A bright red box
With golden ribbons lined

Beside my bed,
And with a note attached.
I sat and read
And then my head I scratched.

The words it said:
“Open me, if you dare.”
And so I thought:
‘I guess that I don’t care

To get any
Surprises that might be
Unpleasant, or
The start of misery.’

So there it sat,
And it yet sits there still:
For I dare not,
And think
I never


= = = = =

Mystery Box

You wake up one morning to find a beautifully wrapped package next to your bed. Attached to it is a note: “Open me, if you dare.” What’s inside the mystery box? Do you open it?

In Godric’s Hollow

The orphan at Christmas, he stares at the stones
That mark where his parents lie

With all that he’s lost, and now almost alone
He still does not know why

But the friend of his boyhood, she stands at his side
Which freezing quickened breath

And they read, in the battle that they’ve still to fight

The last

To be conquered

Is death

3:22 AM

It is 3:22 AM
And she can’t get to sleep:
So she goes to her kitchen
Where, all boxed up in a heap

The Christmas decorations are
That she has long accrued.
She hasn’t even opened them,
She’s not been in the mood.

Deciding, she then opens one
There’s a toy village there:
She puts together all its parts
With noticeable care.

Or, it would be noticed, if
She wasn’t there alone.
This village has been hers since, oh
Before her kids were grown

Or even out of high school;
But, that was some years ago.
She looks at all the tiny lights,
The people, and fake snow —

Remembering the magic of
A world transformed by light:
The music of a heart
That didn’t lie awake at night.

And when the morning came
The house was festive, stem to stern;
Her husband looked at her in wonder
Then with slight concern

“When did you… why do all this?
I would have helped you know.”
“I know,” she told him simply
And then took his hand to show

The people in the village there
Amidst the Christmas lights:
Who still believe and understand
It’s not
Like other


My parents both were singers,
Taught us each to sing a part;
We would go out at Christmas and
Would carol folks by heart

I didn’t mind it very much
Out in the frost and rime:
I usually was rather shy
But not at Christmastime

When light and music filled the air –
The sound comes back to me –
There’s still no gift more special than
To sing
In harmony