Belief

Bubbles in my head. make feet tap again
before they go cold, like stories untold,
like my sparrow's feet, at your cabin door.

Hoping you'll follow,
the trail before it fades,
like the candle I left, by your door step.

Come. find me in the wild,
stoking for us a fire,
where waiting for you, doesn't tire.

If the candles get doused,
by a fateful wind,
don't let the cinders turn to ash.

Each Christmas Eve.
I will knock on your cabin door,
lighting more candles, in belief_