A Christmas Poem

There are doctors on the train,

the sun keeps peeking through the trees

from Amsterdam to Rome

One day there appeared,

Fibonaccis of children

one, two, three, five, eight

running around

those are still worth three.

a little less against your little brother,

a little more after a night of drinking

Unique in your own sacred holiday alone,

you share with everyone

Merry Christmas

-Michael Campana