Christmas Eve Beneath A Waffle House Sign.

Bright lights stood against a backdrop of dark Carolina pines.

A full December moon with its eerie glow begins to slowly rise.

The parking lot was almost empty and only a patron or two dined.

A Christmas tree flashed bight to dim as Leah and I went inside.

There was the smell of coffee brewing and the sweet sound of bacon frying.

The old cook stood behind the grill wiping her brow as she put on another egg or two; cutting onions and crying.

An old man sat in the corner sipping his coffee with sad eyes stealing the night.

Oh this Christmas eve beneath the yellow glow of the big Waffle House Sign.

J. Allen Wilson © 12-2007