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Wistfulness

Lynette C., San Jose, CA By BlossomVonYumYum, San Jose, CA

Cold glass pressing against my nose,
A cloud of breath that comes and goes.
Flakes of snow rain in monochrome.
This is Christmas, but where’s my home?

The fam’ly on the other side
The love they share to me’s denied.
I feel no warmth; I’m all alone.
This is Christmas, but where’s my home?

I see the fire, the tree, the joy,
The child’s interest in his new toy.
Through the room, my hungry eyes roam
This is Christmas, but where’s my home?

I must go now; no hope for me.
This is Christmas, but where’s my home?



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