One Last Poem

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all 'cross the Net,
    Were lurking the poets I was lucky I met.
    The quatrains were written, the free verse was pars'd,
    In hopes that one person would see their true hearts.

With joy in their rhyme and pain in their verse,
    They quickly signed off, all poets dispersed.
    While I, at my desk, recalled their kind posts
    in forums we shared on faraway  hosts.

'Midst the tears that we cried were the smiles that we sent,
    With the fears that we shared, and the help that we lent.
    One last poem this year I still know I must pen:
    Merry Christmas to all, 'til we all meet again.