Of course it was never her fault.
So many misgivings, so much insanity
Capacity to care floundered

Dispersed white powder fragments
Blow on broken glass tables
A surrendered white Christmas

Drawn matted curtains keep
Crystal blue skies and
Bright sunshine hidden

In darkness Dr Seus’
“How The Grinch Stole Christmas”
The stealing of innocence

A childhood
A prevalence greater than
Any Christmas

Her imagination only fuelled by
The blinkering television set
Thurl Ravenscroft’s voice penetrating her silenced soul

In a climate of disdain
Christmas spirit in shortage
How she lived alongside Cindy Lou

Her scarred heart, willing and eager
For just one taste
Of a day so sacred.

© Sia Jane