On Christmas eve

On Christmas eve, some think of dreams they couldn't achieve.

Others, celebrate with mischief to deceive the grief.

But he just sat, senseless, without feeling,

Contemplating the beauty of yore, and the ceiling.

His spirit leapt from his body which had kept its heat,

And death seemed to come from every depth into his feet

.

He shook his hands and cried with a smile

And left this world like a leaf, when pushed by a storm, to the exile.