Christmas Is... Poem by Frank Avon

For an older generation,
holidays also age;

what we let ourselves remember
(or, actually, imagine)

elevates the ordinary
with a temporary glow

and casts a wistful mist
over what was really splendid:

Central Park in shades of gray
with a touch of red from yesterday

metropolitan geometries
made softer by some leafless trees

an arch of stone built to bridge
water that mirrors its own image -

beauty is there for you to see
Christmas, what you let it be

Draft 2

Christmas Is...

Central Park in shades of gray
with a touch of red from yesterday

metropolitan geometries
made softer by some leafless trees

an arch of stone, built to bridge
water that mirrors its own image -

for an older generation,
holidays also age;

what we let ourselves remember
(or, maybe merely imagine)

apparels the ordinary
with a supernal glow

or casts a wistful mist
over what once really shone:

beauty is there for you to see
Christmas, what you let it be