The Warmth of the Winter Rose

Not the most unique setting of a Christmas poem but I like it. It'll do.  I wonder what the melody hiding in it will sound like?

The Warmth of The Winter Rose

The rose that graced the night in winter.
A bloom with brilliant starlight shone.
I can't recall a fragrance sweeter,
On darkened evenings when I'm alone.

Look out the window at the starlight.
That beams the brightness of the rose.
The black world chills the weary traveler.
The soul is warmed by that past rose.

It's not Christmas but I have always liked Christmas all year long.  How ironic to have married a woman born on Christmas day and because of that celebrate her birthday in the summer.  It makes me think of Christmas even more.  Many people dislike the holidays. I don't.  It keeps me going.  The world is full of commercialism and yes it only gets exaggerated by Christmas.  I hear people complain "But what about Thanksgiving?" begging for it to not be forgotten like some child that get's no love, a day that has no feelings.  These are only days.  They only have meaning that we put into them.  How fitting to have a celebration of the birth of Salvation at the same time of the year the the Sun itself seems to be reborn at solstice.  But what about the secular?  The holiday romantic TV movies and the Silliness and Santa.  Games we play to force ourselves to take time from our distracted modern life and remember our kids and families.  Silliness,  That's some of the best times we have here.  Often it's the silliness that keeps me going when things look bleakest.  So shun me if you like for taking this July evening to write about Christmas, my heart is still warm tonight from the thought.  Say I'm bad because I delight in the secular as well as the sacred part of Christmas but that's ok too.  The silliness and the serious are all a part of the warmth