Twas the week before Xmas
and the street is asleep.
Not a soul was stirring
except for one on his feet.

He wandered alone
head bent in deep ponder;
about what had transpired
and what may lie yonder.


He thought of meanness and fear
in his life and those around,
the people he lost touch with
and the ones in the ground.

He sighed with regret;
past loves and lost chances,
all those unrealized goals,
bad health and romances.


Perhaps if he'd played ball
his life won't be so hard;
though slowly he realized,
they can kiss his big butt!

He tallied each struggle
he stood and fought and won.
Accomplishment isn't money
or fame but where he'd gone.


He will find new purpose,
new integrity and truth
As long as he believed,
somehow he'll see it through

Twas the week before Xmas
a light snow is falling.
His soul slumbered at rest,
having found renewed meaning.