Stare in the winter fire. Here, in the glow
your story climbs the apple logs
and dances. Feel it melt and grow
radiant with words. See how the dogs
inch closer, eager, sniffing for
your journey, wearing out those shoes
to get here, your knocking at the dooró
and now itís really Christmas. You, whose
story fills this holly-berried season,
tell us again without pretending
the ways you walked, the roads, the reason.
Tell us again the happy ending.

D.A. Prince

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  D.A. Prince  would be pleased to hear them.