On the twenty-fifth of December,She closes her eyes and remembers,Just how it was.
A Jewish girl from Queens,Fulfilled her secret dreams,Decorating that bright, forbidden tree.
Her boyfriend’s family,Was friendly as could be,Watching her delight.
Then they piled into the car,Greetings called to those they’d pass,Family tradition of Midnight Mass.
Alone, trembling, she stood,Still uncertain if she should,The word “Jew” stamped on her face.
The twenty-fifth makes her remember,It’s Kislev – not December,Choosing tinsel, not the gold.
Radiant – hidden away,A golden light, still pure today,Her Jewish home shines with treasures she didn’t know.
Many years have passed,Each Chanukah spins by so fast,Whispering thanks for not kneeling.