Christmas Past

I saw my long dead parents in my dreams;
All scripture, spectacles, shortbread and tea.
That madness was their status quo, it seems,
As my less stately madness was for me.
But oh how high their grace and goodwill heaped
Along with the presents under the tree
Where the dangle branch tinsel season reaped
Silver scenes of serene infinity...
Sure to haunt me through my silvering years
Of ornamentation and colored lights
Scintillating through all the wineglass cheers
And welcome warmth of wassailing nights
Where phantasm adoring darkness hosts
The love of departed Yuletide ghosts!