Sonnet 38 – Silent Night

I cut a sprig of mistletoe this year
from our dying walnut tree. Looking for
you and hoping to steal a kiss, I hear
your voice down the hall. As I stand in our

daughter’s door way, I see you, softly lit
by the bedside lamp, rocking her to sleep –
again. She won’t rest, so three times you’ve sat
with her, singing “Silent Night”, bringing deep

dreams and peace. You are a miracle to
me: mother, bright angel, temptress, and my
friend. Closing the door on childhood dreams, you
lead me to the couch; I drop the sprig. We

cuddle now and watch “White Christmas”. Kissing
you and snuggling close, I count my blessings.