I play these records
until the grooves
are etched deep
in my soul.
They remind me
of growing up,
when Christmas was
the only golden time,
the only magic time
of the year.
These days,
I often see my parents,
and my heart aches
because in my memory
they are together,
not separated
by an early passing.
"...through the years
we all will be together,
if the fates allow..."
These days,
we have our own
private tradition,
and I live to fulfill it
every Christmas Eve,
and I look forward to it
because it is
the single best
moment of the year.
Everything after that
is just a
thankful exhale.
It's almost that time of the year. Get ready for Sinatra. (Although my son often plays Christmas music in the middle of summer. "Why not?" he says.)
ReplyDeleteA sad beautiful poem, Mosk.