Saturday, December 18, 2010


And tomorrow is Christmas,

the heart’s havoc with delight.

Downstairs, the unnatural tree

dressed in glass and light,

pulses with memories.

Will my daughters see the ornament?

Will they see, as I saw,

watching for hours once,

the orb darkened by green-tinseled boughs

radiating needles,

crystal spark moon beam

still and silent as time itself?

Will they see the heart

that moved two hands to place it there?

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