Prompt — The accumulated memories of annual emotion...
~ The Cultivation of Christmas Trees by T.S. Eliot.
All those eyes, dreaming about flattering night
Wishes in paper towels, blasted my infant buds—
How? How did wishes accumulate with goodbyes?
Mere stage, mere show, I'd walked with head-high
in the rough cast spring sky! Shuddering breath—
Gasping air, I'd have the pinnacle rise,
I wish, I wish, only for a last glance in your fragrance.
All clouds eclipse in moulder rain, and grief falls asleep,
With rural shades in petty silence.
I entered again in the morning air, changed everything
in lofty castle, but you're still here, always here
with all "hi", with all "byes", mixed on every side—
I don't know when the sun shot vital gold,
I've been busy gathering you in every blush, every spice,
Still you're just the music of the annual curse.
— 31st December, 2023 (123123)