The eerie call of the seductive wind, howling it’s deceptive charm with distant pride
As it wraps the mangled branches of a dying willow tree that hangs loosely on its side

The Christmas breeze comes with a frosted breath, blowing out its cold golden air
And the yearly hug of winter crowds the patches of houses that sit still on soils, everywhere

The stealthy feet of the midnight fog creeps slowly from the icy tip of Mount Denham
Down into the valley of Coleyville where it slowly takes the form of a disingenuous man

Overbearingly crafty with a nothingness that feeds deep into the hollow of its empty mind
As it slithers through Straun Castle into the town on the illusive surety of a gambler’s dime

A noisy town that falls asleep, without the roaring sounds and excitement of old engines
Or the hum of jaywalking pedestrians who walk lazily, talking nonsense to themselves

Yet the sweet smell of Christmas rides into town on lengthy strings of frosty vapours
Bringing the hope of Grand Market spoils for the many touring sellers and visiting buyers

Oh Christiana, the town that sleeps in the whispering tales of a passing winter breeze
And the rising scent of crystal menthol in each home to give wheezing lungs an ease

My heart beats each day, searching for another like you but none I find can truly fit
The calling card of the lush green and fresh air that underlies your clayed characteristic

Sleep well sweet Christiana as you snuggle in the warmth of the many thick cotton blankets
While I remain awake, thinking of you, and the many blessings of your homely gifts

I’ll see you in the daylight when your pregnant womb shifts with the bustling crowd
From the feet of the Trelawny hills and the close Clarendon border of Spalding Town

Sweet dreams my beloved Christiana, with whom I fell in love the very first time we met
And I’ve fallen so hard for you that each day I breathe, you’ve become a part of my breath

Oakley Lyle is an author and poet – Visit his Facebook Page HERE

christiana



                     

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The eerie call of the seductive wind, howling it's deceptive charm with distant pride As it wraps the mangled branches of a dying willow tree that hangs loosely on its sideThe Christmas breeze comes with a frosted breath, blowing out its cold golden air And the yearly hug of winter crowds...

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