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Remembrance of Tinsel
written by: Ken Allan Dronsfield
Flowing grace, waving in the breeze like crowds at a ball game.
Back-lit with colored lights and shimmering tinted strands of the
tidings of tinsel. Branches sway in unison to gusty williwaws whilst
the blinking and chasing lights danced their favorite minuets.
Blue candles were in every window of the house, three in front.
Greeting cards adorned the fireplace mantle and stockings
hung patiently waiting for treats from the great man in red.
Mom's favorite chocolate chip cookies graced an oval plate,
a fresh glass of milk with napkin and carrots for the reindeer.
Those memories are burned into every fiber of my being. Even
the scent of the pine incense burning in a holder on the old desk
igniting the atmosphere of hopes and dreams for a young child.
A toboggan in the corner, skis, colorful packaged gifts all about.
The laughs, the giggles, the tears, and jovial smiles. We ran from
the house on Christmas morn to check the roof for hoof and sled marks.
The mysterious visitor always kept silent and never revealed
his presence, except in the lovely memories left on Christmas Day.