The Gift

Icy air in my lungs,

Frozen fingers and

Toes, rosy red cheeks

Hunting among the

Lot for the perfect

One.

Standing in my

Livingroom, the

Tree spreads green

Arms, smelling of

Fresh pine, strung

With lights.

Boxes of ornaments

Dragged from the

Dusty attic, slowly

Opened to display

Ten years of 

Fragile ornaments.

Each one I hung had

A memory of you,

Laughing, smiling,

As I picked up the 

Next one, I began to

Practice forgiveness.

For lying, not

Loving me truly,

Leaving for her,

All the pain,

Tears fall but you

Have my forgiveness.

In the spirit of the

Season, with the

Star on top of the

Tree, I also gave

To myself the gift

Of forgiveness

And of love.

By Gail Constable

From: Canada

Instagram: witch_of_words1955