The Morning After

The coffee emits an aroma of comfort
Sitting at the table before the drive
Not sure I’m ready to go back to work
But we do what we must to try to survive.

Thoughts of all that has just gone by
Boxes and wrappings at the curb waiting
Memories of laughter and excitement fresh
Did it give what we were expecting.

Of course it is a tradition we follow
But more commercial and less feeling each year
I pull away a little more each time
And try to spread my gifts, not just here.

I’ve lost the joy that I had as a boy
I don’t doubt that I will find it again
But for now as I sit on the day after
I’ll pause and just remember “Back then”.

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About graypoet

Just one that at times puts the words to the page and lets them fall as they might.
Gallery | This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to The Morning After

  1. It sounds like it is time to start adding in a few more satisfying traditions. I know exactly what you are saying. What is meant to be a joyous, loving peaceful holiday has taken on legs of its own taking us to places we don’t really want to be – truthfully.

  2. irisoniris says:

    So true. And yet we can make our lives meaningful, outside of traditions and imposed “special dates”, by making conscious choices, pursuing our happiness, and celebrating ourselves. I hope you find it, even on the most random days.

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