I do love Christmas. I don't mean the over-full present-buying frenzy that takes over even the least materialistic of us. I mean the intention of relaxation, love full days with those we cherish. And want to spend time with. For many of us duty has to take precedence of course, at least for a little while over the season and there's nothing wrong with that. After all this isn't a season which purports to be selfish. And surely often the giving of our time even to those we'd rather not is all part of the parcel, no matter how it's wrapped.
I'm lucky I do get to spend real time with lovely loving people and for that I'm very grateful. This poem came out of a beginning about being stretched thin by others' expectations and became a poem (as all mine seem to at the moment) about love.
I was stretched,
like gum pulled thin,
two thumbs pressed
at either end
of a chewed up piece
and pulled until a string formed
between two opposing wills.
The taut fragile line
slung low under a full belly
and an even fuller moon.
You pulled me apart,
snapped past my elastic limit,
in a night drenched garden
under an alcove built especially for two.
Us two, in fact -
you with your hollow rimmed edge
exploring what your mind meant
when it spoke of love.
For your frilly words filled a tiny pocket
in the smallest part of my heart
and as my blood pulsed through it,
it whispered of a start.