Homage to a gentleman

I remember quite well my first trouble getting a sound sleep.

In old days, grandma would ably handle it with a cup of hot milk, honey and cinnamon thus brushing away any allusion of a possible scary insomnia and making every evening of the ordinary ones call a certain resemblance with the Christmas Eve.
Grandma was one of the last series of housewives with embedded sensor cells for comfort of whose hold would be the family small orthodox calendar. Dates in it, marked in red, no matter the Saint they would celebrate would usually spread the smell of a vanilla powder in our house.
She was a master in specialties like London bars, Schneenokles and Apple pies, the fruit for which she would orderly, in a squirrel manner store up in wicker baskets down the cellar waiting for the day in even palest red to dust some flour on the wooden board.
Nevertheless, the most sparkling gem in grandma's necklace of charms was her comforting go-to-sleep drink that easily transformed a dull evening into a white season one and thus arranging in a long distant line all-year-round Christmases.

Quite accidentally, that evening was exactly before Christmas.
Behind my back was the gloomy and yet decorated in the season's flare office. Outside the crowd of joyful robins dressed up like children for the purpose, made the old town square luminous as a ball room in the middle of the social season.
I walked beside a friend and still on my own...no, no past Christmases, no dusty veils of long forgotten laughs. Just me and a very persistent thought, which spring-like was in a hurry to grow in a wider monologue inquiring to confirm certain state of heart.

Step forward, "Are you aware, my love, how full is the air around with you. The hours of waiting between two of your words are thick."
Stood still beneath a street lantern in the hope to catch one of the excited snowflakes certainly not missing my cheeks...well, the angel white town cover may equally go without a couple of the lace crystals.

No worries at all...

Step into the crowd of chirping red noses, "In the same heart of the joyful children's laugh, which reared up and over the brass band playing somewhat festively than ever (such a sound can not be found today), while the tree all in ready-to-go lights and wishes impatiently waited the time to countdown to "Oooone..." when it will shine to the top in icy neon beneath the beams of bright fireworks and sharp chilly pins air..., above hundreds of wide open eyes and chiming sighs...".

Step on a cloud and by that time it was not possible to turn eyes down from the canvas above, "You were there, in the ether, in the brushing breeze coming from the Danube, in the lights above...".

I sat beneath one of those lit glass trees to wait for you...You who know how to announce your presence where it can not be seen and it would take a soul to feel it. The one You who pronounces yourself by a mere silence and it is only the heart that will recognize you and You by whose company a firm serenity would cover everything all around in a mili-sekund...

That much it takes of you tonight!

The next morning, before the dawn, the ships were crawling down the dusky river in some pace and order of their own.
The monologue in my thoughts kept on your direction leaving me at a side...one more time you are in the burst of the day

"Stay as you are. "