Hands kept clapping at the curtain call
only to prolong what soon to be forgotten
Like the dandelion left for the wind
and the mice that never returned home.

But Christmas THAT I know
even at the age of milestone upon milestone
A comforting map of manifestations
traveled, traced in snow, cards and wrapping paper.

But your face I cannot recall
you say "remember, grandpa and I went fishing?"
You're not something the cat dragged home
or merely a floret from when I made love in the meadow?