The withered soul of Christmas past,
runs off to hide away.
It once was filled with love lights grace.
Now yearns for warmer days.
The cold outside has touched its heart
growing icicles of doubt.
But days grow longer, nights alive
so soon this heart thaws out.
But what upon the sacred vow
that loves lost souls have made.
A debt of promised future years
who’s game of chance was played?
Now stand astride with oak like strength
who’s routes are bound by earth,
and let those winds of life test you
then you will find your worth.