• December brings snow,
    the freezing white sands of the earth.
    Christmas comes and Christmas goes,
    bringing in some new toys.
    Crying behind the Christmas tree, avoiding all the noise,
    remembering all the painful memories.
    December brings cold,
    the air of frostbite and runny noses.
    Now I walk down the path that leads me to the source.
    As time stands still, I know what I'll endorse,
    the wind whistles in my soggy eyes.
    Christmas comes and Christmas goes,
    bringing in some new toys.
    Crying behind the Christmas tree, avoiding all the noise,
    remembering all the painful memories.
    I stare at the waiting grave,
    that mocks me like a buzzing issue.
    I read the words aloud, clutching my tissue
    Ernest Kuelling July 17, 1924 - December 25, 1991.