Thursday, December 20, 2018

Last Christmas

photo © Mark Butkus 2011
Some locks open, some locks close. Some locks are found on bridges in faraway places.

I found a small lock
While rummaging through the toolbox
The three attached keys
Would give one cause to believe
That said lock could be opened
But one would be mistaken as I was

And being more than mistaken
I breathed a heaving sigh
For when I first saw the lock
I had hopes of fastening it
To what we've called a Christmas tree

The one you adorned last week
With recent memories of the sea
A child's mitten from New York
and of other stops from the in between

I was going to place that lock
Place it on that Christmas tree
Just as we had on
That bridge in Florence
That bridge in Brooklyn
I was going to secure that lock
And throw away the key

And if and when that tree
Ever comes down
The only thing left on that tree
Would be a small lock
And you would know
That it was placed there by me

And you'd either laugh
And you'd either cry
And you'd never know
That it broke my heart
to leave it there
Because I had come to accept
That we had already spent
Our last Christmas together.


— Mark Butkus