Darcy, remembering Christmas…

It’s late –

I’m sitting

surrounded by

wrapping papers -

and open boxes

in a tiny room

of my apartment.

Yours is the last gift

to wrap,

as I look out

the dark window East

I pause to consider

Christmas again.

So many memories are stirring.

Early morning under

a lighted tree,

half eaten chocolate chip cookies –

a half full glass of milk -

that first peek out of my door

down the hallway before the break

of dawn.

There was so much happiness

in my childhood -

it comes flooding over me

fresh with these morning memories.

I hear the sound of Christmas music,

Johnny Mathis and Ray Conniff –

our parent’s favorite albums –

thirty-three and a half rpms,

of scratchy, sentimental music

monuments to the 1950’s.

It’s late –

but I stopped to think of you

love you for a few minutes

free of all distractions,

push all the years back

that get in the way of holding

one another.

So this Christmas –

when you open your presents,

read these words,

receive this gift,

know that you are each,

so much a part of me –

connected by these sweet memories.

You are with me every Christmas,

as I move down

that dark hallway

to take the first peek with you –

each and every Christmas,

until the day I pass away.

J.E. Dorsey – 12.23.02 – Rev.11.24.03 Rev. 11.12.10

Copyright © Doug Claybourne 2010. All Rights Reserved.