Tree lights 
bounce off
of windows 
like candles 
that too
disappear into 
the darkness 
of winter 
wood and 
the glee
of ornaments
and snowy
boughs alike 
whisper if
only this 
was mine 

When all is
and none without 
does one ever 
or only remember 
there’s pain there
beneath the surface 
is it better 
to just watch 
the memories swim
by like fish
beneath the ice 
or to catch 
them on hook
me I think 
it’s best to 
let them swim 

The tree stands 
now gaily decorated 
like some ma’am
waiting for ride
her bracelets baubles 
and broaches twinkling 
as her hands
covering and crossing 
hiding her anxiety 
every year it’s 
the same until
the presents arrive 
that are grandchildren 
and which sit
happily beneath her 

I’ve started over 
so many times 
I’ve lost count 
starting from scratch 
ain’t so bad 
nothing beats a 
clean slate upon
which to draw 
erase those errors 
and unnecessary lines 
the thing about 
having nothing is
that everything gained 
is a treasure 

Morning clouds hang
like long overcoats 
tucked deep within 
a cedar closet 
and beneath which 
I quietly hide
smelling stale perfume 
and cigarette smoke 
plump with promise 
of parties and 
precipitation these coat
clouds wait patiently 
for their turn