Late in the night the only light,
shines from the forsaken Christmas tree.
Each forgotten little sparkling white light,
each twinkling ornament a piece of our history.
Silently time seems to stand,
slipping gently from my hands.
The past and future intermingled,
with immeasurable joy and sadness.
Forever lost yet moments still to come,
are tempered with a longing gladness.
Memories of moments that had been,
I realize now never to come again.
Each memory and thought is seen on every night,
not just a forgotten and melancholy Christmas eve.
Still the question remains, do angels dream?
~Mark Schutter ©2014
