by M.Vega

Created on: April 02, 2009   Last Updated: April 15, 2009

At the age of four, I was standing on a street corner,
next to a lamp that was stolen from my grandmother.

Alone and cold, scared out of my wits,
the snow falling down, as if I was at the bottom of a pit.

Christmas eve night I was supposed to be cuddled by the fire,
waiting for Santa to bring my hearts desire
instead I was alone, in the dark and tired.

I was found and took in, never to be with my mother again,
I lie in the arms of my grandma, a woman without sin.

I was called the Christmas eve angel, in newspapers I was.
A piece of my soul stood on the corner that day,
the day my mother took my heart away.

Learn more about this author, M.Vega.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.