I better not pout
All I want
to wrap before Christmas
are my thoughts around
the present
and how it does not
have to be adorned
with lights and
mistletoe is not
needed for me
to want to kiss you
in the cold white darkness
of that winter’s night
when Santa
runs himself ragged
fulfilling his
FedEx-like magic
trying to please
the precious little ones
who believe in him
enough to leave
him cookies
of innocence
before the
crackling fire
of truth
burns
their letters
to the North Pole
to embers