A Dreary Christmas

The day,
another day
yet it should be more.

Of the Seven,
Only Three are here.
Four were taken by the fevers fire
and One by the rage of war.

The brilliance of the Sun
cannot dispel
The Dark from within.

Tis, Christmas the calendar
Does proclaim.
Though,
Here it holds no cheer.

All are gone.
No lights, No tree,
No merry presents
bearing bright bows.

Empty House,
with Empty Fields.

The Hearth is Dark,
where bright fires did burn.

Sounds come from without.
Where howling winds sends
wraiths about destroying warmth.

Tis only another Christmas Dreary.