The Ornaments

Unpacking Christmas ornaments, one from every year
Each one has a story to tell that I can't bear to hear.
The only reason they're still here to adorn my Christmas tree
Is your lawyer forgot to include them as community property.
Tucked away in the attic, like me they slipped your mind.
Unwelcome reminders of a life you left behind.
There's the boy on the swing that you brought home  when the kids were very young.
Too painful to remember, so that one won't get hung.
There's the angel you painted the spots on when John got the chicken pox.
We laughed so hard we almost cried. I'll leave that one in th box.
There's the bell from our first Christmas together, long since faded and cracked.
Not at all unlike our marriage.   That one's better left unpacked.
Here's one I bought you, the handyman.
Santa painting his sleigh.  And Santa mowing his North Pole lawn.   These, too I'll put away.
There's Santa riding a little red coupe the year we bought the car.
Baby's first Christmases, three in all
And a handmade treetop star.
There's a wreath you braided with a lock of my hair and tied up with a bow.
A small but painful reminder from so very long ago.
The lights I'm sure I can manage.   The garland has has no tale to tell.
And standing here this Christmas eve, I feel as though I'm in hell.
So once more I'm starting over.
And I pray for guidance from above.
And as I stand beside my barren tree I whisper, "Merry Christmas my love ".