The Ghosts of Christmas Otherwise

Those visions of other Yuletide seasons
Of gifts never opened or songs never written
Names never spoken and cookies never bitten
Lie with us, if beyond all reasons.

There is the Christmas with a man you could love,
And the Christmas of nuclear frost;
A Nazi Christmas where all hope is lost
Or the good Christmas with world peace
descending like a dove

We see the Christmas where you went to college,
The Christmas in Spain
In the hospital moaning in pain,
The one spent trapped in a drift cold and icy.

Yet feel no pride or shame in what you chose,
For to us they are all as one,
For your Christmas path itself is nearly done
To live on as mere fiction read by readers escaping the snows.