Christmas In the Attic

Silver Angels, with golden wings, * * wrapped in tissue, with other things. * * Stockings, hand knit, by my Grandmother, * * folded neatly away, one atop the other. * Favorite ornaments, growing old and brittle, * * that were hung, each year, when I was little. * * A faded Nutcracker, that by the door, stood guard. * * A lighted Santa, that would always grace our yard. * All, left alone, in the attic this year. * * To look upon them, only brings dry tears. * * The very act, just...takes away my breath. * * There is no joy. In fact, there's nothing left. * There will be no twinkle lights on the mantle. * * No evergreens, fragrant and ornamental. * * The radio will be silent, the baking oven cold. * * No Holiday spirit, in my heart can I hold. * Just this deep, defeated feel. * * A sadness that invaded, refusing to heal. * * Grandchildren will call, their excitement clear. * * In their hearts, they hold the Holiday cheer. * I'll have my mask, firmly in place. * * I'll answer and question them all, with false grace. * * Then as I hang up the phone on the wall, * * I'll turn away, as though, nothing happened at all. * Seeing these things, listed here, in print. * * Just leaves me numb. No emotions were spent. * * So, I will continue, in this life that I live. * * Like a dried Christmas tree, with nothing left to give. * By: PaulaSwanson For: Constance La France ~A Rambling Poet~ Contest: Your "Saddest" Christmas Ever Placement: 5th