I am a ghost of Christmas Past

drifting through memories

bright as tinsel,

brittle as frost.

A silent witness

of happier days

captured by photographs.

 

I am a ghost of Christmas Present

struggling with loss

bitter as ash,

barren as snow.

A reluctant guest

at Christmas Dinner

for Teddy’s sake.

  

I am a ghost of Christmas Future

accepting that grief

brutal as winter,

broken as time

eases with years

and the realisation

loves lives on.

 

 

~*~

 

A/N: Christmas is a season that can feel blessed or bleak: sometimes both at once. I’ve lost loved ones, so it wasn’t hard to see through Andromeda’s eyes, although I still can’t leaf through photographs.