christmas poem

on window panes, the icy frost
leaves feathered patterns, crissed and crossed,
but in our house the christmas tree
is decorated festively
with tiny dots of colored light
that cozy up this winter night.
christmas songs, familiar, slow,
play soflty on the radio.
pops and hisses from the fire
whistle with the bells and choir.
my tiger is now fast asleep
on his back and dreaming deep.
when the fire makes him hot,
he turns to warm whatever's not.
propped against him on the rug,
i give my friend a gentle hug.
tomorrow's what i'm waiting for,
but i can wait a little more.

(by calvin and hobbes).


porque o natal devia ser sempre que quisessemos, desde que realmente fosse um momento para valorizarmos o que temos de mais importante.

um beijinho grande.

friends

when we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.
the friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.

henri nouwen - 'out of solitude'