Maybe it's the way the elf <br />is grinning... <br />Maybe it's the way Mrs. Claus <br />seems to know something I don't. <br />Christmas always has an aura of mystery <br />and a tinge of sadness. <br />It could be the way the bulbs <br />hang from the tree and effortlessly <br />reflect a twisted, distorted view of myself <br />as I search the branches for <br />the bulbs that may mean something... <br />anything, <br />to someone. <br />No matter how I turn, <br />I can't get away <br />from the carnival-mirror-like image <br />hiding between the strands of garland. <br />She mocks me <br />as I look at the homemade bulb <br />with glitter letters <br />that says ''Mothers Make Memories''. <br />I wonder if every Christmas tree <br />holds within it <br />the bulbs that blind them.<br /><br />Mary Nagy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-bulbs-that-blind-them-2/
