Mistletoe Bride, a poem by Christina Ciufo at Spillwords.com
Ralph Nas

Mistletoe Bride

Mistletoe Bride

written by: Christina Ciufo

@ChristinaCiufo

 

Pale snow,
delicate and transparent,
twirls, caresses, and shawls
gelidness and sepulchral upon
Bramhill House’s cracked,
charcoal stones and windows.

Grandfather clock chimes
echoes across the hallways,
through each empty,
portentous room,
down the stairs,
and towards a tall, wilted,
brown-green Christmas tree,
decorated with old, glass ornaments,
faded, torn scarlet-gold
ribbons, and spiderwebs.

Long, thin white candles,
half-melted, resting
on both ledges
of the fireplace,
with their torrid,
gold-auburn flames flickering.

A specter bride
appears beside the window,
callow, graceful, and sepulchral,
staring at the snow.

Pallid face
as gelid and portentous
as an icicle upon
the window’s ledge,
reflects despondency.

Her long, elegant, embroidered
white dress glides across
the floor’s cold, marble complexion
as she roams through the house,
searching for her fiancé.

The bride walks up,
searches, and stands
in front of an old, large,
worn brown trunk in the attic.

Trunk opens –
revealing a skeleton
dawning a long,
elegant, embroidered
white dress like hers.

Tears appear
and stream down
from sapphire-pale eyes,
anguish and melancholy,
recalling a tragic Christmas long ago.

Grandfather clock chimes –
Ding, dong,
ding, dong,
ding, dong.

She dissipates into mist –
arboreous, saccharine pine aroma
appears and lingers
throughout Bramhill House
with the candle lights becoming dim
on Christmas Eve night.

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