Christmas lights and wreathes appear
strung across town like evening gossip.
A family sits around a tree handing out presents,
trying to ignore the ones pushed to the back to be donated
still wrapped,
everyone who receives one wondering
what happened to the name on the tag?
The lights blind the family,
Have Christmas lights ever been so harsh?
They leave the tree up till every needle
Lays in brown piles,
A skeleton of what used to be.
YOU ARE READING
Dancing with Ghosts
PoetryA collection of poems coping with the juxtaposition of grief and beauty, pain and nostalgia, heart ache and celebrations. From breakups to losing a child, a parent, a friend, a sibling, I hope this little collection of poems helps someone out there...
