Categories
Poetry

The December Poems: Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine

Five
—–

Throwback Thursday memories in
December slam into the back of my
throat, all cold air and hot bourbon.
I don’t need to be told to remember;
I could never forget loving you.

Six
——

You never know when you’re creating
a new tradition. What starts as an email,
a question about a trip with the girls, ends
with an early morning wake up call, a long
bus ride, and stepping out into the cold,
December air into the city that never sleeps.
Perhaps we’ll do it again next year. Perhaps.

Seven
——-

I think of you when I’m in the city.
It makes me angry, but I don’t do anger,
so I look at the buildings, the lights,
the places we stood together, and I
make my Christmas wish: to forget.

Eight
——–

Shades of pink, purple, soft blue, and
hunter green; glints of gold among the
soft touch of velvet. Fuzzy faux fur,
retro prints, Peter Pan collars mixed
with modern prints. Christmas music
pouring into the store that wears your
name. I pick up a piece of chocolate
pretzel bark, the sweet and salty melting
in my mouth, and I wonder what you
would think of the trends this year.
If only you had stayed with us.

Nine
———

Most Mondays feel tough, the rise and
grind repetition of it all. But the Monday
that starts off the week leading up to the
day I gained and lost you makes me
want to pull the covers up over my head,
to stay in bed until December rolls on
into a new year. Calendars are cruel.

These five shorter entries in The December Poems series were written while traveling, pen to paper. I should do this more often.

Categories
Poetry

The December Poems: Four

Dear Santa, the Elves, Rudolph, and Mrs. Claus,
I’m writing this letter to the lot of you in hopes it
reaches the one of you with the proper kind of
magic. My wish requires a special touch, I fear.
You see, all I want for Christmas is joy.

I want the joy of a young child on Christmas
morning as they see what Santa left beneath
the tree. I want the joy a mama feels on
that first Christmas with a new baby. That
pure, unmatched joy of love and belief.

I want my family to have that same joy;
the joy we had before grief snatched our
smiles and broke our hearts. The joy
of life before loss, before death, before
bitterness, brokenness, bleak midwinter.

I just want the joy of the season, the joy
of love, of hope, of peace to fill us each up,
for the feeling to last all year long, for our
smiles to stay, for our hearts to heal; for
joy. Please and thank you, A Sorrowful Mom