Better Tomorrows

Once there was a holiday story,
of silver metallic moonlight,
that contained embryonic beams
of better tomorrows.
A story of sequined arch angel wings, cradling my wounded thoughts
and haunted sorrows.
Healing shine for my tattered soul's terrain.
The magic light of Christmas, for many,
grows old.
But not for me.
Despite competing trees
festooned in shimmery gold.
Excitement tinged,
swirling winter winds.
Proke nostalgia for long forgotten kin.
No one sets out to be forgotten.
Be remembered for the lives you touched, with kindness & grace, even in the face of your own terrible pain.
I still believe in that story of the enchanted moon, angels & that those better tomorrow's
will brightly reign.