Seasonís Endings



A dim vestige of the holiday,

the tree stands; empty, bereft.

Only the strings of light bulbs remain, 

but a tangle of darkness, 

their brilliance stifled.

Just days ago the mood 

was bright with promise, anticipation, 

camaraderie and affection. 

My children are almost grown now;

no more with innocent, upraised faces

and hopes on Christmas morning;

no longer with eyes shining with wonder

and unabashed joy.

I look at them; picture them as they were,

little boys, eager and excited,

and feel a bittersweet pang.

I find myself missing my father

as I see him reflected more and more

in the faces of my sons.

Tomorrow I will finish packing away

new memories along with the fragile

baubles of yesteryear, 

and put the dried and brittle tree 

out at the curb.



© Ellie Maziekien

1/8/2001


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