#143

January 6, 2012 § 7 Comments

The tinny tine
of tiny bells
drips
like the supple wax
of fading candles, softer
than the kind that peal
from steeples,
but ring instead
in “remember when” –
whispered psalms
of reconnection
forgotten hymns, melodic
conversation
beat of fire crackle
reverberations
dynamic balance, between
the forte of festivity
and pianissimo of children
pretending
to be sleeping
Holiday mezzo
measured levels
golden-tinged by candelight
and sweet red wine, like
the breath of Christmas kisses
and the ring of angel wings

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§ 7 Responses to #143

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