Saturday, February 23, 2019

Lily Swarn writes


The holly smiled rapturously that holy night 
Blood red berries soaked in your crimson aura 
It was not the night of anticipation either 
For upheavals cartwheeled in whirlpools 
Tossing me on ocean breakers of nostalgia 
It was a night of whispered wishes 
Fingers crossed and eyes closed 
Beneath the flourishing mistletoe 
The old homeless grandpa shuffled 
His aching feet in the sub zero freeze 
Tarantulas of agony crawled up his bent spine 
How could family be so heartless 
On such a night of love?
Does an overflowing table with red roses 
Ever mean what it is trying to convey?
He peeped surreptitiously through the window 
With his eighty year old rheumy eyes 
His granddaughter prancing around
In her frilly crimson dress 
skipping around the sparkling  Christmas tree 
Gifts piled up in a humungous heap 
Beneath the over burdened fir tree 
A blizzard rose from his innards 
Wrecking the festooning wreaths 
A tempestuous night it was 
Flinging the crimson bows 
I gulped the lump in my throat
As I thought about that night 
For I was that little girl 
Whose grandpa was outdoors!
It's So Cold Outside That The Ghost That Haunted The House Froze To Death

No comments:

Post a Comment

Join the conversation! What is your reaction to the post?