First snow is always the best snow,

Seen through Henry’s rose-colored glasses.

Life lasts forever to a child,

Winter syntax, joy’d hours.

He awaits holiday facets,

Reflecting memories of candy, family, chicken, and toys.

This holiday diamond,

Green and red personified by perfection:

Swirls on white, glowing past twilight,

Staring Henry hears hours passing by.

He says to those who ignore the year:

Up and down,

Over and through,

May holiday cheer head back to you.

Years go by and Christmas still

Creates future memories stacked in Henry fill.

His family breaks but he doesn’t care;

By action they’re quite happy, and hell they’re all there.

Reunions enjoyment is got from the wine,

Singing, caroling, presents, and making toasts,

Henry simply waits, unaware of his mature growth.

Teenage years stumble awkwardly by.

Winter weather lovingly halts school

Allowing ignorance of cruel compeer taunts.

Henry senses the change, slow moving at first,

Usually ignored due to intense, female thirst.

He does in fact care what Krista wears,

And hopes that Molly will smile sweetly back.

Dave’s still an ass, imparting gym period pounds;

Best friends use pot, getting off the right track.

Yet at home twinkle the multicolored Christmas lights,

And the world is forgotten for a few special nights.

Manhood arrives in what seems a few seasons,

Dishing out responsibility for what seems to be no reason.

Alone on fourth street, holed in the apartment,

Henry’s face reflects back from window sheen.

Sheltered away from the world’s cruel outside,

Without chocolate by kettle,

Cold now tests his mettle,

And that of his car’s.

Snow sweeping, gleaming, and brushing up around trees,

Solidifies his closure to what the aged eye sees.

Presents from Santa Clause will no longer arrive,

The image of Christmas has gone, now shattered.

Illusions of happy parents impossible to contrive

Far from the bickering Henry hides memories, tattered.

Treatment for nostalgic, anguished thoughts

He thinks to return to the empty canvas soul, so pure.

Now to remove current ailments

Only Christmas lights seem to cure.

Every year he visits what was taken for granted,

Sentimentality drawing out tears Henry fights.

Returning home soaked with sorrow he flips a wall switch,

Swarming his halls with red and green lights.

Forty-four years have now passed in a flash,

Begging him back yet still asking for more.

Defying all fate he ignored it still

Praying his future still had some love in store.

Sixty-five the proud hermit lives on a hill,

Having accept the facts and resigned to his fate.

All those that he cared for long gone in despair,

And Henry’s lost the will to hunt for a date.

Gone now is the idea to grow old with a friend,

Ideal dreams in silhouette and out of sight.

Once he’s lit up his halls Henry can begin to pretend

That nothing else matters on the holiest of all nights.