My Days Till Christmas

My days till Christmas
Are spent in waiting
And wishing.

An empty house
A creaky kitchen
A chill
No internet
Only a single string of colourful lights
Along the banister
And a tiny tree with presents
Meant for someone who's home far away
Enjoying the maddening company
Of family.

As for me, I know
Home's not far away for me either.
But I can't go,
I must stay and grow up
Work and study
And wonder what my purpose is in life.

I must miss the traditions,
Picking a tree from a frozen-lit parking lot
And bringing it home
To make it shine.
Or waking up every morning until Christmas eve day
To read the funny little notes
Mum stashed in the advent calendar.
I don't get to bother my dad with Christmas songs,
Call him a Grinch and joke about his Christmas spirit.
I don't get to sit in the glow
And write my awful poems
Or my stories about Santa's elves
And the North Pole.
I don't get to watch the holiday movies
I've known by heart since childhood.

For me, it's another day,
Not another day closer,
Just another day.
No Christmas spirit,
Just an empty house
A chill
And a single string of lights.