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Holidays Take Their Toll

Like a toll road
you must pay to travel,
away and back again, or
like the wreath on our front door
built years ago by a little girl–
Apples, cut into circles, dried to
dark brown, glued onto Styrofoam
in overlapping rings.
The little girl is long grown,
but the wreath remains,
disintegrating year by year
as the holidays take their toll.
Now the Styrofoam shows at the edge
a clue to what holds everything together
despite the years and the wearing away.

2 responses »

  1. such lovely poetry… i’ll be back for a visit. xox


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The Sketchbook


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