.
January 1st looms large.
It looms, equal to an echoey Norse hall minus the mead.
A house of mine? Minus cinnamon baked love?
A house of mine? Minus stashes of jalapeño sweetness?
January 1st looms large.
A library without books.
Santa without the sack.
A lover without a kiss.
A runner without tights.
January 1st looms large.
It looms quietly, absent the crinkly sound of joy unwrapped:
That inoculator against stress,
That magical deliverer of caffeine,
Portable bliss,
Transporter of mothers.
Sniff. Sob.
Pity my children and curse my Sensei.
.
January 1st looms large.
It looms, equal to an echoey Norse hall minus the mead.
A house of mine? Minus cinnamon baked love?
A house of mine? Minus stashes of jalapeño sweetness?
January 1st looms large.
A library without books.
Santa without the sack.
A lover without a kiss.
A runner without tights.
January 1st looms large.
It looms quietly, absent the crinkly sound of joy unwrapped:
That inoculator against stress,
That magical deliverer of caffeine,
Portable bliss,
Transporter of mothers.
To precious Chocolate,
Farewell my Sweets.
Sniff. Sob.
Pity my children and curse my Sensei.
.
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