Familiar Music

The carillon's carols bring me back to a time
When the season appealed to me. Another
Kid caught up in the fraud, the appeal
Was strictly mercenary: gifts found under
The Christmas tree. The carols, the lights,
The Santas, nativities, never amounted to more
Than props. I had no god. I learned about
Santa too soon, so all that mattered to me
Was asking and getting, and, after a while,
Even those things grew to feel hollow.
I now try to distance myself from Christmas,
And can, but for carillons' songs.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 109 times
Written on 2018-12-19 at 19:41

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