I will not visit family, or witness their joyous cheer,
Yet in our hearts and spirit, we’ll keep each other near.
The presents will not gather, and grow beyond the tree,
The stockings will not number again, the count of thirty-three.
The tree will not be two halves tied, bought at discount price,
The rules will not be argued, as to which game rules were right.
The magic of the season, instilled in us those very days,
Have certainly been carried, by family along the way.
I will not visit family, but in my heart I hold them near,
Their gifts will all be passed along, to those who made the year.
Donations made to those whom, carried us throughout this time,
To the nurses who should not have to bear, the endless sickened line.
To the Postal workers endless hours, and their constant thankless task,
Not forgetting the grocery workers, simply smiling behind a mask.
There are more than I could count, that deserve our gratitude,
It is a different Christmas, what else was there to do?