A cup of coffee to replace my mother’s hug,
Eerie sound of winter chill takes the place of my father’s cheer,
No more baby brother’s laughter to keep away all that’s austere,
Another christmas eve,
tucked in bed,yet made to believe,
that under a lit up sky, beneath the Christmas star,
next christmas my family won’t be so far.
Maybe next christmas I’ll have a tree,
and mother’s homemade rum cake all for me,
maybe in love, under the mistletoe.
Next christmas might be mine,
You never know.