Midnight Mass, Beautiful Glass

A believer I was never
An acquaintance I was not
Yet, I sat upon a bench beam
In the same, familiar spot.

I listened to the pastor
From the pulpit looking down
Blessing all attending
From this lax and wayward town.

Soon, little eyes were drooping
Older ones were, too.
The choir it lulled its festive tones
In hearts, the warmth it grew.

Midnight Mass was comfort
Adjoining of the creeds
As neighbours, friends and enemies
Render worthy deeds.

Oddly, every single year
As the aisles started to fill
I'd find myself next to you
The Mother of good will

Stained glass aglow with colour
A mother with her son
Aura's just a wisp of light
Christmas has begun.

A prism's beam it rested
Upon my very sleeve
Spectra seeping through the dank to
Temporarily reprieve.

My Christmas day has started
Sleep it will evade
Colours spoke a million words
Exactly as you said.