It's November, the wait is almost over...
You must login to vote
My mind wanders down to the basement,
Where the boxes are dusty,
and sewn together with cobwebs.
The summer home of our favorite celebration.
The boxes stacked there are buried
Under wrapping paper and bows I bought on sale last year.
The instant tree-in-a-box slumbers there,
Patiently waiting until the day after Thanksgiving,
When we cheerfully release the season, Christmas, again.
When we unwind the strings of lights,
Assembled together, prepared to witness
The ageless magic held in treasured ornaments, old and new,
and colored lights nestled on a pine tree with silver tinsel icing.
The unparalleled beauty of flashing colored glass globes
casting shadows on the living room walls.
The sharp contrast of snow and sunshine.
The shades of blue and sparkling snow diamonds.
The annual celebration for the birth of hope,
and the death of separation...all tucked away in my basement.