After the explosion…stillness,
paper torn, tape remembers
clutching things within,
lost now to the light, the secret is out.
Sit on the floor, chairs taken
by bigger bodies, one brother shows a shirt
that will never be worn, another a book
or a new record by the wrong band.
Some already gather the scraps…
Promises never fulfil; the harvest
has been lost, replaced with bright colours,
tinsel wrapped boxes, bows
that hold nothing, good things
only become apparent in later years –
none came gift wrapped.
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