The floor is covered with ribbons, bows
and cards with pretty sentiments,
but, I see red; red with thorns, roses
laid at his feet where gold once was
and I see rain.
I smell a storm brewing,
rising from the fog like a silent night
when all they could do was cry.
I hear music; hallelujahs
spilling over rivers of indifference.
Place a flower in my hand
and let it prick the skin.
like the crown upon his head
as my tears celebrate the life
of one who spared mine,
.I am writing a poem a day from November 24th until December 25, 2016 to celebrate the birth of Jesus. …… this is day 30.