Whose home this is I dearly know,
Our chambers far below this village though.
No one will see me turning here
To watch the park fill up with snow.

My waiting friends won’t think it queer
I stop without a streetlamp near,
Beyond the bridge and frozen lake
This quiet moment at close of year.

I hear the faintest tapping noise …
And laughter, I think, of girls and boys.
The only other sound’s the sweep 
Of distant cars … my heartbeat and its race of joys.

The tunnels are lovely, precious, and bright,
A secret place filled with light.
A blessing that is ours tonight,
A blessing that is ours tonight.

~ Christmas Eve, 2014

Whose home this is I dearly know,
Our chambers far below this village though.
No one will see me turning here
To watch the park fill up with snow.

My waiting friends won’t think it queer
I stop without a streetlamp near,
Beyond the bridge and frozen lake
This quiet moment at close of year.

I hear the faintest tapping noise …
And laughter, I think, of girls and boys.
The only other sound’s the sweep 
Of distant cars … my heartbeat and its race of joys.

The tunnels are lovely, precious, and bright,
A secret place filled with light.
A blessing that is ours tonight,
A blessing that is ours tonight.

~ Christmas Eve, 2014