Mithras, Christmas or Abra-December;
she shall appear in her star-covered cape;
vanishing tarmac in ptarmigan feathers;
weaving the straight-jacket that she’ll escape.
Ermine haired men struggle hard to remember;
the rope trick of rising mist sighs from their mouths
as they strain to remember the secrets she whispered;
not the hag-witch watch hands which palmed their youth.
Comments
skinner_jennifer | December 24, 2010 - 10:23
Hi well-wisher,
what an amazing poem, I love all the lines, they are
all magical.
Jenny.
well-wisher | December 24, 2010 - 10:31
Thanks, Jenny. I wanted to write a poem saying that Winter is magic, whatever you believe in, especially if you're young at heart.