Leoma Retan- A Poem

Ghosts of Christmas

Christmas was:

Family.
Parents and children,
later nieces and nephews,
rising before dawn to tear open
brightly wrapped gifts
carefully chosen.

Senses filled.
Bubbling lights,
Shining glass ornaments
old and filled with memories,
Smells of turkey and pie
fill the house.

Christmas is:

Lonely.
Father turned to ashes,
Mother nods, seldom speaking,
All far from me in time and space,
No surprises lurk beneath
the bright paper.

Lights still bubble,
Ornaments trigger memories
of joy and sharing we have lost.
Christmas smells filling the house
bring only recollections
of what was.