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There are some days so drab and plain
…That by themselves they’re naught.
They’re overshadowed like a Jane
…By one who’s by all sought.
Now Christmas Eve is such a day –
…It cannot stand alone.
Its name reveals the next holds sway;
…By Christmas, it’s outshone.
And such it is the day before
…An execution day.
Tomorrow’s eve – it is no more
…Than fragile wisps of hay.
Though none would seek it, if it comes
…It casts the greatest shade.
It takes away light, warmth, and numbs,
…And all else is its maid.
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photo by Dez Pain at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mWBsC4E/Christmas+Baubles+2
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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.
The Bard on the Hill 