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Posted December 14, 1997 by Tim Wells in Poetry

The Ghost of Christmas Perfect – A Poem

The Ghost visits me while I sleep
showing me Christmas morning
wife asleep on my chest
anxious footsteps
a child’s voice
telling us it is time
we smile sleepily
and gather ’round the tree
lights twinkling
carols playing softly in the background
tiny chocolate fingers seek
and find
wrapping paper flies
bright blue eyes widen in delight
a gleeful gasp
rose petal lips kiss stubbled face
a whispered ‘thank you’
we work in the kitchen
little one
playing at our feet
before the meal, a prayer of thanks
for gracing me
with these angels
we put her to bed early
she’s had a big day
my wife pulls me close
sweet, raspberry flavored kisses
she puts me to bed early as well
I awake
and realize it was all a dream
there is no tree
no lights
no angels
only darkness
my heart breaks for the hundredth time
hot tears on cold skin
I close my eyes tight and once again follow
The Ghost of Christmas Perfect

~ TW ~

Have you ever had a dream that was so real that when you awoke you were sad it was only a dream?

Tim Wells

Dad, husband, gamer, blogger, geek. Not necessarily in that order.