Seventh Day Of Christmas - A Poem

                                                                       for Father

One solitary fantasy,

Rowdy, rides streams of my consciousness.

Raping stifled memories

Whirling, swirling in my unpresence.

Ringing them bitter-sweet chimes

So irresistible

It’s all like a virtuous crime.

Each ding-dong unforgettable

Summons my deep to break surface.

I ache for one more forbidden taste.

I really wish you are here to share my Christmas.

All my sweetest thoughts are lonely.

Every tick-tock makes it worse.

I wish there was a holiday from death’s sleep.

If you can hear me as I call

Merry Christmas! Even tho you’re gone.

Eneh