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Literature Text
December 25th and I've had 365 days to forget
your aunt's incredible roast turkey and braiding tinsel
through your sister's hair and interpretive dancing
to cheesy carols with your drunken Uncle Mark.
Firelight flickered across the curve
of your lips, the shadow of your jaw
and boy, you were beautiful,
all smoke and cinnamon.
December 25th and I'm ignoring the urge
to mess up your sleet slickened hair
and the fact that your card now says "from"
instead of "love".
I almost don't notice the way your eyelashes
glitter with snowflakes
and the fact that you look adorable
while you laughingly attempt to make a snow angel.
December 25th and I'm going to cheer
along with the rest of them
when you kiss her under the mistletoe
and then I'll gush about how sweet her embarrassed blushes are.
The pudding is brim filled with wishes
and maybe this year they'll come true better
than the last, because it seems "forever"
was too much to ask for.
your aunt's incredible roast turkey and braiding tinsel
through your sister's hair and interpretive dancing
to cheesy carols with your drunken Uncle Mark.
Firelight flickered across the curve
of your lips, the shadow of your jaw
and boy, you were beautiful,
all smoke and cinnamon.
December 25th and I'm ignoring the urge
to mess up your sleet slickened hair
and the fact that your card now says "from"
instead of "love".
I almost don't notice the way your eyelashes
glitter with snowflakes
and the fact that you look adorable
while you laughingly attempt to make a snow angel.
December 25th and I'm going to cheer
along with the rest of them
when you kiss her under the mistletoe
and then I'll gush about how sweet her embarrassed blushes are.
The pudding is brim filled with wishes
and maybe this year they'll come true better
than the last, because it seems "forever"
was too much to ask for.
Literature
A cappella
My mother, a famous classical violinist in her day, was on her deathbed and I didn't care. She was bedridden by the usual suspects, old age and a fall, and had been for many months when they called me. "Come see her," they said. "She'll pass on soon." They told me the nurses played Tchaikovsky, her favorite.
"No," I said, and hung up the phone, slamming it against the wall, the cord jerking about in a wild dance. I glared at my CD player, as though it would suddenly come to life with violin concertos, then grabbed my coat, and left the house.
The critics never tired of sayin
Literature
on not knowing.
this road was ten miles long.
i traveled barefoot.
Literature
annabbelle
(two ays, two enns, two bees, two ells, to ease)
i met a girl who wanted two
of everything, to
reach out for your hand, so she could have another one, too.
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This is for *modestlyvainglorious who told me to write something about Christmas and/or winter. I hope this is good enough 
Also, I've never experienced a wintry Christmas so I'm going a bit on assumptions here.
Also, I've never experienced a wintry Christmas so I'm going a bit on assumptions here.
© 2010 - 2024 loopy-lexy
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Wow, this is absolutely beautiful! I love it 
Thanks for this!
Thanks for this!