Time at Least

Before the final ember tires

Within the hearth’s inviting fires,

There’s time at least for joyous feast

Among the songs of ageless choirs.

 

The sanctum of the season’s hollow

Wherein no sullen storm may follow

Allows at last a ripe repast

And lets the livened laughter wallow.

 

As darkling skies descend to glower

About the tips of tinsel bower,

Embrace the taste of wishes placed

Upon the fringe of festive hour.

Copyright © 2011, Jaymes Buckman and David Aaron Cohen. All rights reserved. In a good way.