she wraps the ribbons round tugging to form a billowing bow. one by one gingerly under the tree in colored paper presents flow... and steps back to smile with glee, still, in wonderment of christmas. where little feet once trampled up the stairs, awaiting the morning of papers tossed into air, now alone she awaits the eve of christmas. in morning's wakeful eventuality, "they'll come back to me", she knows. so by herself she climbs the stairs to dress in red, but not for bed... she mirrors the woman she's become, and trips the light out, into the night out. merry christmas wherever it can be found.