it was a tree, i remember
of cheap thread and cotton balls
bound to the dilapidated wall
we called home
brushed with glitters
and moldy red lipstick
the only thing, you said
you own
i remember my brother's
pleas when he asked for santa
that night, i knew
you were sad
to tell him santa wont come,
but you chose
to drown your tears
with his cries
you are free, now
i can see your amused smile
almost, as we still
look forward to christmases
and believe santa will
one day come
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