it is said that from now on birch leaves from falling into eternal green Christmas tree,
where I'll keep all my desires and hopes of a better life.
But, it's like a vicious circle, year after year, the Christmas tree stretchers entire living room carpet with small fragrant prickly needles.
Then, I crave even more, if I had had a poet cozy cabin in the woods with a wood stove in Transylvania warm my lonely, metropolitan woman's soul.