Brooke Zerbs Poet Rhyme

Merry Christmas to the photos on the wall

The room’s dimly lit by the holiday lights.
The games we play no longer end in fights.
Santa doesn’t come anymore, the elf doesn’t move
And we don’t make an effort to set the christmas mood. 
But we still put up the tree, making sure it’s not too tall
Not blocking the view of the photos on the wall

By now, we’ve stopped noticing, when we sit down to eat
That at the head of the table, there’s an empty seat. 
He’s not the one gone, no, he just switched his place. 
Because somebody had to fill that gaping, silent space. 
Just a few years ago, there were no chairs left at all
Just the cluttered dishes and smiles in the photos on the wall.

“Happy Holidays” we send out, with photos on cards
Choosing the perfect picture to send out afar
But there’s an extra letter we keep from past years
Preserved in glass, like some breakable souvenir. 
In it, the wrinkles are still there and the children are still small
“Merry Christmas,” It reads, that photo on the wall. 

You reach out to your friends, maybe shoot a quick text
Two words and an emoji, then move on to the next
But your family does more, they want to hear your voice
So you pick up the phone, only slightly annoyed. 
Yet now you’ve learned not to take things for granted
And you should’ve cherished those conversations, every minute they lasted
Because now one person is missing, there’s no incoming call
Just leftover voicemails and their photos on the wall. 

The morning finally comes, only after the longest night ended
Where you tossed and turned, your heart about shredded
Clouded with memories that haunt you, yet you need them to survive
The joy that you should feel is stamped out by the part of you that died. 
You open the presents full of expensive clothes from the mall. 
Yet you wear the same ratty sweatshirt that’s in the photos on the wall. 

When the party starts, and everyone comes over
There’s no place to be sad, your new role is the joker. 
So you smile and give hugs and shake everyone’s hand
Make your way through the crowd that’s got the whole house crammed. 
When you finally escape, you pause in the hall. 
“Merry Christmas,” you whisper, to the photos on the wall.

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