Christmas Past
Settles the dust of driven snow,
icing shoulders, mantled white;
powdered breath and cornflake steps
hushed beneath the tangerine light,
on the edge of dark, periphery of night.
Of ice-ridged panes I stare
at a picture card minds eye view;
of Victorian perfect Christmas
with sugared plums and angel wings,
firs green with envy, geese that flew
in midnight skies of cobalt blue.
Half-smiled, I shed these tears
at all the ghosts of Christmas past
remembering how things used to be
and how they may never be the same
for the seal is set, the die is cast,
and I miss you so, both first and last.
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