Goodbye Noel

By Beverly Boyd

The colored lights are out,

with wreaths and ribbons;

leaves drop from faded poinsettias:

goodbye, Noel.

It is always like this:

waiting with bated breath

for familiar faces and gifts,

perhaps brushed with snow;

a moment of peace

and again it is gone,

Noel.

Homesick for what is lost,

yet spring flowers will come

and other leaves will drop

in the promise of new seasons.

For the sake of this,

goodbye, Noel.

– Beverly Boyd lives in Lawrence.