Despairing,
While gazing outward upon a sea of white.
The landscape is frozen
And forlorn,
And glimpses of living things
Are rare.

Christmas arrived this year
On our calendar,
But none dared venture out,
To commune and celebrate
With families,
And friends,
And the gifts remain
Wrapped, under an unlit tree.

Modern conveniences
Are rendered useless,
Under a blanket of ice.
And for those who speak of
The days of old,
And candles,
And kerosene stoves,
And families huddled next to a fire,
Those days are gone,
And are not missed this year.

I have not missed those gentle moments
With a spouse who I love,
And I know that my childhood is gone.
But our years are few,
And our moments together
Are measured within our memories,
And I regret this loss.

Tragedy struck the Earth,
Giant waves claiming all
In their path.
The Reaper smiles with greed,
Having won the lottery of life,
And he casts his glance
On other hemispheres,
That are bathed beneath the ice,
And he wonders to himself,
Are there souls that I might claim?

And so we flip the calendar,
Grateful for our lives,
And dive into tomorrow
And hope...
For more moments spent together,
With our families and friends,
And just this once
We'll count our fortunes,
As they are sadly stacked against your loss.