Last December

My father was working

On Christmas

 

My Mother

Was not around

Either

 

My sisters

Were off

At college

 

I myself

Was alone

At home.

 

 

Last January

I met a woman

named Epiphanie

 

She loved

To write

About life

 

Increasingly inspired

I began to write

Myself

 

I was less despondent

After attempting to

Create.

 

 

Less sardonic

Less forlorn

Less unimaginative

 

I suddenly cared

For literature

For art

 

I understood

Why Epiphanie
Wrote

 

I understand

Why I now do

As well.

 

 

Despite

However poorly

One writes

 

Thought

Is nonetheless given

A place to dwell.

 

 

This December

My father is working

On Christmas

 

My Mother

Is still 

Not around

 

My sisters

Are off

At college

 

And I myself

Am alone at home

Writing.