Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #363 -
Marley Was Dead

"We are writing a “spirit” of Christmas. From your personal experience, write a past, present or future poem as you’ve lived it. The season fast approaches. As we prepare, lets reflect on how we can better ourselves from the lessons so learned, poetically."


In years long
past, my family
drove from
Brooklyn to  
Long Island, where
cousins waited.  In
their basement, 
a glittering tree,
skirt scattered
with gifts for all.
Ah, those snowy
rides, Dad driving,
visible to others
only by the top of 
his cap.  An added
attraction to Dad's
driving was dead
cigar butts filling
the ashtray in front,
nauseating everyone
in back.  This particular
year, Uncle Bill rode
home with us.  We were
unaware of his flaring
prostate problem.  In
freezing darkness, light
snow, we were slowed by
Uncle Bill's discomfort,
and need to pee every 
few feet.  Never forgot
that tense drive home.
We were so glad when
my cousins moved
to New Jersey.

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