Found this where you hid it
Beneath the flight of stairs
and the string of white glass bulbs
and the red and white striped candy canes
boxed in unwrapped cellophane
*
Lifted it easily
into the space
before my heart
bringing it into my trust
*
Breathed slowly
*
Felt a tear release itself
all at once
dashing hope against the full length of my face
*
Gently slid a tingling finger
beneath the Scotch tape
careful not to tear the gilt edges:
Rosy Santa faces and flying reindeer
staged in knee-high snow drifts
and perfect winter houses
decked out in tinsel and star-eyed angels
singing their hearts out before
a small fire --
the artist’s perfect rendition of our far away cottage in the woods
*
Set aside the ribbons and the bow
*
Lifted its small velveteen lid
*
Exposed
the only question
you never got to ask
***
Copyright © 03/27/2024 by Christy Munson. All rights reserved.
Keep reading
More stories from Christy Munson and writers in Poets and other communities.
Hall of mirrors
Things used to matter, before all the noise. And at that time when things still had meaning, there had been dreaming too, when dreams still mattered. And the brightest dream from those times was full of mountains and seas and smiles and the types of passion that absorbs you the way a dog is absorbed by witnessing something for the first time: with absolute presence, and awe.
By Giulia Viti3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (6)
Descriptive and heartbreaking!!!💕❤️❤️
"Found this where you hid it Beneath the flight of stairs" Oh dear, how many memories this might have brought up. A beautiful composition indeed.
This was so poignantly beautiful! Gosh you have such a way with words!
Oh, Christy, this poem is pure heartbreak! Beautifully and as sensitively rendered as a portrait in pastel.
Oh no...🩵
Truly heartbreaking! You painted this picture so well.