The Christmas Visitor

Oh, these dusty, glittered cards from long lost occasions
      and Christmases gone by,
      are packed and full of years and tears

Ballet slippers, I examine and give a softened smile;
      do now lay crumpled
      and fail the touch of the tip toed ballerina
            of oh, so long ago

How faithful all these pieces of memorabilia have been
Plus 30 and more years have trickled by
       leaving hardly a whisper in time

And many have questioned,
"What is the point to all this cardboard and glitter?
Why do you keep these old pictures that children drew?
And these discoloured ribbons from track meets – Why?"

But, it is beyond me, how they fail to know my precious
       golden times; like treasures from Atlantis
           of such a deep emotional kind.

I have not traversed this world in body
      nor have I caught the proverbial brass ring,
      but I never stop trying
      no, and never stop dreaming
      nor do I stop remembering
      these scraps of memorabilia
            as the fragrance of the pine from Christmases past
                  return to me for their yearly visit.

© Charlotte G Mair Xmas 2004