Presents

Presents

If you were here,
Just a percentage of you,
It would be like Christmas morning,
Sparkling, bright and just briefly aglow

How quickly the packages
Would be ripped open, still in the night
With dawn we’d be left wondering
Is there more?

We’d toy with what’s exposed
Turn it inside out, shake it upside down
And swallow the disappointment
Later, during grace.

Again, I’d regret you being here
Because I asked for the wrong thing
But there would be next year
Time to mourn what was missed

Time to fancy a present
That was never a gift.

LE
3-16-2022