christmas poem

let us pity those who are better off than we are
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
often i think of the beautiful town
i stood
beside a stricken field
she heard the children playing in the sun
it was the autumn of the year
simplicity
the snow whispers about me
i make my shroud, but no one knows
eighty years have passed, and more
under a spreading chestnut tree
to come so soon to this imagined dark