In sadness the lively tree is shed of color,
gleaming ornaments
carefully, safely wrapped in soft paper,
paper that wrapped them safely when I was young.
With each one wrapped, a memory:
a smile,
a tick of sadness arrives
as I lay them to rest for another year.
These days, I lay them in their boxes
with a wave of grief at how many Christmases have passed,
how few festivals of Light there are to come.
Mary Elyn Bahlert, 1/2025
