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Snowman,

all I can wish you

is Merry Christmas.

I hope you understand me.

I couldn’t shape you

the way I imagined.

My hands were cold,

and my heart was louder

than my fingers.

I couldn’t decorate you

the way I wanted.

Life ran out of ornaments.

If you heard my pain,

your heart would melt.

It melts anyway.

Still,

your quiet cuteness,

your borrowed dignity,

steals hearts

from people who forgot

how to feel.

Merry Christmas, Snowman.

Tell me,

what would you like?

A candy cane

bent like a smile

trying its best?

Some families unwrap joy.

Some unwrap silence.

Some unwrap pain

and call it tradition.

The lights…

they aren’t just decorations.

They are attempts.

Small rehearsals of hope.

Like decorating the heart

with feelings,

with emotions,

with things we fear

won’t last till morning.

I wish you could walk, Snowman.

Knock on every door.

Reach every house.

Bring joy.

With Santa,

or without him.

Snowman,

my muffler is yours.

My gloves too.

Take the warmth

I never learned

to keep.

By morning,

you will be gone.

The sun is never gentle

with soft things.

You’ll leave your clothes behind,

fabric on the ground,

and quiet in the air.

I’ll pick them up carefully.

Not because they’re useful,

but because they remember you.

And that…

is Christmas.