Untitled On Purpose: Hope and Bad Poetry

Untitled On Purpose

Gone for the holidays

Wafted away by snatches of carols

And starry, starry nights.

Lost in foil-lined wrapping paper

And gingerbread dreams.

Not I.

The carols I hear

The wrapping paper lies unwinding on the table

And the gingerbread dreams are still just dreams.

 

I roam in the world I created.

Looking into windows

Listening at doors

A voyeur in my own imagination

Watching the rain fall.

 December 2015

 

Normally I would be posting a Christmas haiku or tanka. I may yet, the day is still young or fairly so. This is what I have written though, so I am posting it.

 

Please note the final line. It’s been a very long time, and there are still obstacles to overcome, but I am starting to have some hope that Rain will be published in 2016. More than that I am afraid to say. Saying it aloud or definitely may jinx the whole thing. But maybe. . . just maybe. . .

Hope is curious thing, isn’t it?