Waiting for Your Christmas Call

You're still my star. I'm still right here. Waiting for the

day you finally call. Your loving parent, on Christmas. The porch light's

hum is the only sound. While the neighbor's lights spill on the ground.

I bought the bike you wanted in June. It's hidden in the garage,

a bit too soon. Your stocking's hung but the name is blurred.

By a dozen things you haven't heard. I wrote you letters,

I called your phone. But the line is cold as a winter's stone.

They say it's a season for coming home. But I'm celebrating all alone.