Time is a shameless
measure:
no returns and
no
exchanges:
final
sale.
Like a
holiday tape wrapping
gift
by
gift,
the holly pattern
always
Sitting on a shelf,
observing
the darkness
of
neglect
A fate
to
pity, of
senseless
indifference
or perhaps to
covet,
eternal and
proudly
beyond,
spinning mutely
We cannot see its
end,
only –
think we
do:
cut short,
it
proceeds –
old gifts and
memories
remain;
undying,
unreturned,
dust-collecting and
sitting unblinking,
unremembering
