First Christmas Without The Children by Mary Heyborne

First Christmas Without The Children
By Mary Heyborne

I waken early Christmas morn
Aware that we're alone,
Grasping remnants of fleeting dreams—
Of Christmas with children home.

Christmas, when all of us were young—
Those "vision splendid" years
When our arms could circle everyone
And only joy made tears.

And now we graying lovers sleep
Alone in our tinseled house.
No midnight tappings grace our door,
No "Can we get up now?"s.

No pre-dawn bounding from our bed
To stuff the biggest bird—
We'll start our little fowl past noon
And eat with scarce a word.

The rhythm of your breathing breaks.
I sense you're thinking, too,
Of distant loveds—and how this year
There’s only me and you.

I turn to your beloved face
And see reflected there—
Midst longing for what used to be—
The joys we yet can share.

We'll build a fire and open gifts—
Make all the Christmas fuss—
Then find the children's Santa mugs
And raise some juice to us.