Candy canes have melted

and colored bulbs

are wrapped in paper

to be stored in the attic

for one more year.

I walk the ache away

as best I can

searching for what

I thought I had found

in you.

Lying across my bed,

dulling off in the gentle throb

of sleep,

I hear the song of your voice

and see the hymn of your smile

though knowing my cathedral is gone.

I could still worship there,

but once I knelt on a bed of thorns

and my knees have hurt

ever since.

Knees almost never forget.

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Copyright Esther Luttrell 2010