My Brother,

Every Christmas Season, would laugh...
and give, as if this day

would redeem him forever.

Going to midnight mass, he saw the girls
that we all dreamed would be our salvation,

Those gentle maidens, full of angst,
that like our own, they would share sometimes.

We'd play in the snow through the day,
Driving North as we tried to get stuck,
luxurating in battling off the cold -

We knew that at the end
of our day's expedition,
warm, sweet, rum drinks awaited us.


Perhaps I peaked around too many corners in my youth, But I always saw the end, an end never as joyful as today; An end to this glowing day of ours as father and brother, sister and mother would all end too soon, as slowly, I would too in suffering - and the future would hurry inward.
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