Waiting; The New Cold Moon

I wait for what I will never have
unsure of how to even call it near

the echos of Thanksgiving retreat
split time between melancholy and laundry
searching for what might engage
eyes spy Christmas lights, boughs of green
harbingers of the advent scene
they lift me for a moment
but they are wound in a carol 
promise of friends and good cheer 

(a vision that has yet to ever appear)

still, I trust in tradition to guide me through
and open my wallet to shiny and new
'perfect' gifts to buy me love
the cash registers sing 
and offer a ring
so angel's get their wings

and I sit almost alone
if you can call a hot holiday beverage a friend
amid a throng of almost alone strangers
fondling their own warm friends
bags piled near our feet
all hopeful that this year 
we can actually buy
what we need

so, I wait for what I will never have
but I do know its name...

Unconditional Love