As if searching for the ancient Holy Grail,
they drive up and down all the back roads
late into the longest night of the year.
Their quest is the myriad of lighted homes,
yard ornaments, and Christmas trees; all lit up
with colored lights to brighten the darkness.
To bring the happiness of childhood memories,
events of wistful thinking to a conclusion,
on this drive through darkened cul-de-sacs.
To seek the perfect light display, a memory
that brings out that warm downy feeling
of past Christmas Eves on this night alone.
Knights of the Holy Decorated Lights.
Worshipers of the Lighted Santa Clause.
Seekers of the Lighted Holy Grail.
Drive on, drive on, not knowing where
the next string of lights will take you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem