Between Seasons
The lights fade out, the songs grow still,
No echoes left of laughter’s thrill.
The feast is done, the toasts are said,
The holidays have softly fled.
The table’s cleared, the tree is bare,
No ribbons bright, no gifts to share.
Yet in the heart, the warmth remains,
A trace of joy in winter’s veins.
No more the rush, no midnight cheer,
No greetings bright from far and near.
Now all we do is wait and sigh,
For time to bring a new July.
Or birthdays, weddings, days of grace,
To gather in some cherished place.
Till then, we hold these moments tight,
Like embers glowing in the night.
Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj
#0004 Copyright 2024
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