Of course it was never her fault.
So many misgivings, so much insanity,
Capacity to care floundered.
Dispersed white fragments,
Blow, on broken glass tables,
A surrendered white Christmas.
Cartoon shapes form,
A blinkering television set,
With a lowly child meek submission,
Afraid to question a day, date, time,
Just the imagination fuelled by,
Children's laughter behind,
Matted curtains keeping,
Crystal skies bright sunshine.
In darkness, Dr Seuss'
"How The Grinch Stole Christmas,"
The stealing of innocence,
A childhood,
A prevalence greater than,
Any Christmas.
Spirit in shortage,
How she lived alongside,
Cindy Lou, wishing & eager,
For even just one taste,
Of a day so sacred.
Adults circulate, noise polluting air,
Insects festering in,
Corners untouched,
By rancid faeces,
A baby boo striving,
To thrive (survive),
In a climate of disdain,
Unworthy.
Another one bites the dust.

© Sia Jane