I've spent years giving-

everything that everyone asks for;

wishing for a happiness I'm not sure

exists.

It's never enough. I'm still

all alone,

trapped, in this cold place

I call home.

If these gifts I give are hope,

then where is mine?

~

What if he's not coming this year?

Maybe I asked for too much,

or I wasn't nice enough to earn a gift.

I don't think I'll write a letter

next year;

he's obviously given up on me,

so I'll quit wasting his time

and wishing on shooting stars.