I tried to write to Santa,
but the words choked in my throat.
How do I beg for bread,
won't his elves mock how rich my poverty is?
December after December,
I have grown to watch Christmas from a distance
through my tinted windows of hope.
Not all is merry,
nor is every night silent.
And no, I do not envy the rich for their joy,
I only wonder if they hear my hunger when they laugh.
Or perhaps, when Kevin sees me,
he realizes it's better to be "Home Alone"
than spend Christmas on the streets...
