I sit here in this winter afternoon
with time laid down in multiple exposures,
coming round to end of year,
softly tugged by nineteen-year-old photos

With carols on the stereo to knit the years together
and drafts around the windows to remind me of the weather
and nothing, really, that I need to do in here and now
except my heart’s deep preparation for eternity

Those friends, who were such sweetness in our lives back then
are gone from us, except in memory,
those little faces, and the strength of love they pulled in us —
they are still dearly loved, though not the same

And we approach a Christmas where we won’t see them
and we’ll put no decorations in the house
as we look for something often sought but found seldom
to fortify ourselves for time to come —
the perfect peace to bring this world safely through its changes,
to play our part in witnessing the birth of truth.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 15, 2016