It truly is not fair.
One reel of lights, four boxes of baubles, a packet of icicles some snowflakes and four reindeers.
Five three meter lengths of tinsel, three packets of lamette and a Robin made of real feathers, which the children love to stroke. Yet you, you look down at me as the only memorable bauble like I’m some kind of irrational joke.
You sit there innocent on your string as the corals rage on and you don’t say a thing.
You just watch, a reminder of every wrong that was ever caused me. Each self defence moment gone too far, each family argument, each war. every fallen brother I can’t help but miss and the true loves of last year, week, lifetime for which I still ache to kiss. Then you turn slightly in the gentle breeze and I capture my image alive on my knees and I freeze.
Out of more etiquette than respect I Aikido bow. I believe only in myself and sometimes, sometimes even I don’t know how.
This year may be the best year yet and still I’d miss that I’d never have. I wonder where the Angels keep you and who that you call dad.
© G.P Williamson 2017