The Scary Red Man

The scent of Mellissa raises graceful in the air,
minty white nectar lemony-effervescent hangs among the rows of candy and sweetmeat.
The hall is quite and chill
and the fire in the furnace boils away the remainders of the hearty boars-hind.
The stars, ever-pining away the child looks towards them in hope.
Sleep comes and dreams wake to celebrate the sheer.
 
Cold and echoing, bold and joyful;
is the silence in the early morn whet he comes to play.
Decked in red, dyed fur and shadowy figment black.
He shines glory in white.
No need to use what isn't there;
Climb down the chimney with care.
 
No sound is made: no thump or brush.
No laugh is sounded…it only gets quieter.
A gift is laid down with care in front of the dying fire.
A final toy stuffed in a stocking with glee.
Blessed quiet…
And the house is empty.
 
It's eerie how the sound echoed,
and the Cheshire grin on his horrifying face.
He who resides in the silence of that morn
A spirit with fire in his eyes.
I looked into his face and saw my death and that terrible smile…
And he all but disappeared... faded into memory like the air…

 

ISA

Merry Christmas.