Christmas Remembered (a furtive bow)

For some reason Christmas has seemed to be a bit more of a thing for me this year, I don’t really know why, it never has in the past, even with it being Dad’s birthday.

I mean it’s nothing new, it wasn’t like it suddenly occurred to us, “Holy Cow!!! Beck, Nick, Mom (when you were still here with us in all your Mom “Oh Bloody Hell you three!!” glory way that I so miss did we suddenly realize that Dad was born on Christmas day and after we’ve raised a glass to him every holiday get together for going on almost 30 years now at whatever table we were sitting at?

From a Christmas Kitten new poem prompt response and that really cute Beck, Nick and Steve kitten time in a house shared to new other poem responses to prompts from new friends to that third year reminder of a Christmas cat song, to even remembering that one of my tunes of Stevie and Tommy and Billy was set at Christmas.

But I found myself being myself being all Christmasy for some reason, and that is not per usual.

Anyway, I thought to then to finish it up and put a holiday furtive bow on this Christmas something that was a bit out of the blue and a stream of conscious thing here, however much making some edits along the way could be considered stream of conscious …

Christmas Remembered (a furtive bow)

One more for the season seems right

after revelry was bought in times nigh

again

of

preps and reps, you got this says coach

in uniform colored practice of reds and greens and sometimes golds

for team

in gifts from under crowns

tall and short

his number is one

the first

with beasts and straw

and tell all draws

from wide and far

to see all seems right

no crows to caw

crow

just yet

to pick, click, pick, click, pick, click, pick apart in pieces

and lay blame

to color this time of maybe’d holiday magic

any shame

even gifts

in how it should

be

in greens and yellows and talks of kings

I well wish you

you well wish me

but glory or egg

who came more joyful first

does it matter for

I just want a day

to put this all away

Immediately

and though I can’t quite see

from here

I know there is a star I was told of old

to look to

for

that lights us all into some same fold

of stories on Christmas nights told

but who am I to expect

suspect

wants

like taught the best

known

like I sage upon a stage of a new age

all to just go away

I pray

immediately  

from pews of glory and stories and songs of old

from pompous robes in colors of reds and greens and golds on altars

with sashes and smoke

and families across pews fold with daughters who had a feather of blonde hair

Oh my, how could anything be that fair

sung high

that told

and I damned myself at the thought of a kiss

I fear I may be old and just tire

of this old now

and stories

I remember that I just want to put away

immediately