Poetry by Mitch Simmons
I remember the winters when the lights were few,
When Mama stretched a dollar till the silver shone through.
My sister and I would laugh by the tree so small,
Paper stars and dreams were our gifts, that was all.
We had no feast, no glittering store-bought cheer,
But love filled the cracks of each passing year.
Mama’s hands were weary, yet her smile never waned,
And my sister’s laughter was the song that remained.
Now the table is full, and the candles gleam bright,
But silence has settled where joy took flight.
The house is warm, the cupboards abound,
Yet echoes of yesteryear are the sweetest sound.
I’d trade all the gold, all the gifts, all the means,
For one more Christmas where love filled the seams.
For Mama’s soft humming, her voice pure and kind,
And my sister’s embrace, forever entwined.
The holidays come now with comfort and pain,
A blessing of plenty, a shadow of rain.
I stand in the glow of all I have earned,
But ache for the hearts that will not return.
Still, I light a candle for each of their names,
For the lessons they taught me through struggle and flame.
Love was our treasure when times were lean,
And even in loss, their spirits are seen.
Through every twinkle, each carol and prayer,
I feel them beside me, they’re still there.
Mitch Simmons is a writer who lives in Virginia.
