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my tinsel heart

FB_20141221_09_04_48_Saved_Picturethe twenty-seventh day of december

in a year

we did not share together


afterglow of christmas beaming

from the tree

through my scotch-taped-back-together soul


tis the season to ache infinitely


driving through light strands

of red and yellow traffic

to the art museum upon the hill


with the little park beside it

where the son we will never have

took his first wobbly

bear dripping honey grinning steps


into your arms as i watched filming

jumping and cooing the way a mother does

over the littlest triumphs


but we never were, darling

our lips never touched


our breathy kissed love affair

ether white wedding by the sea

raven haired children

are nothing

but a shared

far away dream


an assorted pile of glistening

christmas presents

never to be wrapped

accumulating beneath

my tinsel heart

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