It's night now and the eve's over.
Lights out but they still glower.
Cleaning is left for tomorrow.
Rooms, full of guest; none left for sorrow.
And here we are
Lying on our bed
Me beneath you
Roses around us; red.
Golden Christmas and our love so red.
Hot and warm, like toast, like bread.
A veil of elf dust and fairytale miracle.
A fire that never ebbs, always crackles.
And here we are
Lying on our bed
Me beneath you
Roses around us; red.
But no one knows the secret like I do.
No one knows that this christmas isn't true.
Years ago on my deathbed; red–so red,
came a knock of kin with a box of med.
And the kin was you
Walking on a thread
With a globe of snow,
Box of med but no med.
Then you faded to smoke but left a note.
'Shake the globe and receive an antidote'
I did and many christmas happened with you.
I still wonder if it is my dreams or reality, so true.
But I am glad the kin was you.
Walking on a thread
With a globe of snow,
Box of med but no med.
~29/12/24 EH ©
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Word count - 198
Schizophrenia ?
This poem has been written for a contest. I tweaked the promt a little though.
Prompt: One day, you noticed a package sitting outside your door. You open it to see a snow globe along with a note reading, "Shake and the Magic of Christmas will appear." Skeptical, you shake it and an elf appears.
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