this, December thing
~
As cobwebs grow while we sleep
so does this thing
this, December thing …
How it throttles, suffocates and destroys
how it becomes a pestilence within the silent beats of winter
this, December thing …
The emptiness of broken promises
echoes from the sorrows of children to the sorrows of
this, December thing …
How it settles within bones, upon skin and like a question of blood
how it envelops with its pretence of realism
this, December thing …
Each movement choreographed to make belief believable
while deep in the bowels of truth it festers
this, December thing …
How it seduces, enchants and dazzles
how its cosy fireside warmth births solicitous souls
this, December thing …
Like the chill of death’s cowl
it touches memories with sparks of things long gone, long lost
this, December thing …
How it breathes with such passion, beauty and an evanescence of time
how it reaches in to kiss with the sublime heaviness of falling feathers
this, December thing …
~
How I wish … but this … this December thing, cuts my soul to pieces …
