Jadz Morrison

This poem was written in 2005 which was three years after my mother died. I had just returned to Connecticut from Hawaii and made a comment to my sister, Liz, that our Christmas would be happier than it had been for a while. We had missed our parents dearly.  Her answer was… 
  “The Christmas after my last (one) will be the best of all.”
I went to my room and wrote this poem in 20 minutes

Christmases Past
 
I now reflect upon the years
         Of Christmases past.
Each one a happy, fleeting scene
       Of memories fading fast.
Our youthful senses were engaged
       In laughter and delight.
While darling Mama and Tata
       Made our spirits bright.
                                
A meager tree of wired twigs,
       Its branches were adorned,
With bits of brightly colored string,
       Buttons and acorns.
These precious moments were to me,
       As seeds to starving sparrows,
As were the sounds of mama’s voice,
       Singing Christmas carols.
 
The older that I finally grew,
       So wise in what was cool,
I often found I did ignore,
       Life’s most impressive jewel.
The joy of being truly loved,
       Above all living things,
By my mother and my father,
       Those wisest of all beings.
 
Christmas comes this year again,
        Its joy a little tired.
I long to be with both of them,
       As I rest here by the fire.
Like a silent siren’s haunting voice,
       I feel their spirits calling.
Come be with us my precious child,
       Your winter’s night is falling.
 
I see the children trimming trees,
       While I sing my Christmas carols.
I decorate with loving hands,
       And feed my starving sparrows.
Such joy there was in Christmas past.
       Such joy I’ll know again.
The Christmas Day after my Last,
       Will be the best of them.

Happiness nearly slipped past me the other day.
Barely noticeable, I glimpsed its vibrant colors reflecting off passing clouds.
I felt its warmth against my upturned face.
 
I sensed its presence as it anchored itself to the walls of my heart.
Curling lacy tendrils encircling precious memories,
Blooming in colors that brought tears to my eyes.
 
I Inhaled the fragrance of flowering gardens,
And felt the furry softness of contentment brush my hand.
I found comfort in its purr.
 
A thin, delicate wisp of joy that could support my weary soul,
I yearned to drown within its being…
And never awaken to a world without happiness.
 
 
Jadz Morrison
10/09/17