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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

‘Twas the Week Before Christmas

I was so busy today
I had barely time to breathe.
To find my whereabouts.
A day traveled with irredeemable
junctures of epiphany,
I heard children sing Christmas
carols in the morning.
A pageant for the Christ child.
Had breakfast with my family,
and watched a December rain
fall to the earth.

I thought of gifts
I wanted to give.
Bottles of light from the dawn.
The gray sleep of the sky.
The sound of the song
I composed and could not cage.
So funny, hiding in the keys
of the piano, never to be heard again,
as I played them.

Such a busy day
that I’m getting lost in the shadows
finding my way to bed.
This day gave me happiness,
enough to sing about,
and tears,
falling from my eyes in secret.

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