A Xmas Sonnet

Love dost’ bother me on this Xmas day,
Forthcoming I think not, not a card or a letter,
Thou hast’ celebrated with thy very self,
No family interaction, no calls, no thoughts of well being.

Move over hatred, thy complacency of family true,
No longer important to the heart,
Yet be there when on thy love stage,
And only the once in a while ear for thoust.

Sail into thine madness of Paolo’s grief,
Years of splendid rambling and things,
Speaketh the truth old man sure,
Xmas, New Year, same as any day afore!