With no snow in the air,
And temperatures rising from here to there,
Around a confusing mix of clarity,
Would one consider this merry?

Although terribly wrapped,
In an attempt to readapt
To the change that blooms with maturity
Yet to the younger ones; a purity.

That of a fictional man no longer real,
Not needed to trick us with his appeal.
Together we follow obligatory tradition
Not to an extent; not to a precision.

Yet one would remember it at the time of day,
Long when everyone had stowed away
To their own minds and hearts of matters long gone,
That youth can reveal itself at festive dawn.

With an ease over mind and family by the side,
You remember the year's journey; the flight; the ride.
No longer will the past hinder the coming,
Because you know yourself; the brave; the loving.