Poem: Ghost of Christmas Present

She drifts amidst the holly
picking berries round and red
for the love of you, or me

avoiding news of tragedy
along each jagged edge
she drifts amidst the holly

pretending not to see
where evergreens have bled
for the love of you, or me

along an evening’s melody
where harmony has lately fled
she drifts amidst the holly

painting crimson on her knees,
a silent angel fallen, led
for the love of you, or me

pricking fingertips on memory,
leaving things unsaid
she drifts amidst the holly
for the love of you, or me.

Photo by Mark Seymour, Creative Commons license via Flickr. Poem by L.L. Barkat, author of The Novelist: A Novella.

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