Wistfully taunting, it echoes your pulselike so,
tinnitus stretches walls solid as drums, and you
bury your laughter with lilies on frost-bit toes.
Drawing her likeness on old mugs does naught in lieu
of glass jars holding it pressed on your blue cheek and
would that these ribbons and paper could hold it too.
So I am hanging her scarves like a Neverland
circling the tree, faint with eggnog and cinnamon,
hoping warm carols remember her clapping hands.
Scattering sugar on counters, I tap the thump-
thump of her twinkling eyes, and inside it is
snowing, bright white like her hair in a make-shift bun.
The box is empty but, love, lift it, hugging this
warmth to your heart like a conch pulls her ocean near,
beating in rhythm with every smile. Do not miss
Her voice against your closed eyelids stealing your tears
Holiday memories always weather the years.