This Christmas is warm—
    a sunlit breeze through palm trees,
    sand beneath bare feet,

    and the distant sound of waves crashing in time with old carols.

But next Christmas…
    the air will be different.

The glow—
    not from fairy lights
    but from a shared smile,

    and the quiet promise of something…
                                       lasting.

The gifts won’t be wrapped in paper and ribbons.

They’ll unfold in moments—
    laughter drifting like music,
    touches that linger,

    unspoken words that need no translation.

And next Christmas…

There will be two plates set under the stars,
    a toast raised
    to beginnings,

    to paths crossed, and to days ahead.

The dog,
    lying content at the edge of the terrace,
    will watch the flicker of candles,

    its tail wagging to the rhythm of joy made tangible.

This Christmas is foreign,
    and yet, familiar—

    A season reimagined,
    painted in colors of blue skies and bright sun.

But next Christmas…

Will be something more—
    a meeting place
    of here
    and there,

    of the now—
    and the what’s to come.