If Only In My Dreams
by Mary Rose Corkery '18
In a white colonial house on Main Street, USA, this wondrous family gathers on Christmas Day.
It is an occasion full of beauty and warmth and light, a combination that melds just right.
The doorbell rings again and again, a never ending parade of old and new friends.
Here is a tree adorned in crimson and gold, and over there is an evergreen wreath spruced up with a velvet red bow.
Peaceful spirit is installed in the air, among hugs, kind words, and traditional holiday fair.
There is not a doubt that this is the Christmas Perfect, the flawless representation of a place called Home.
Then my eyes are open and I stand up. My comrade in arms greets me with a clap on the back, our camouflage fatigues blending unremarkably. "Merry Christmas, eh Charlie?"
I'll be home for Christmas,
If only in my dreams.
It is an occasion full of beauty and warmth and light, a combination that melds just right.
The doorbell rings again and again, a never ending parade of old and new friends.
Here is a tree adorned in crimson and gold, and over there is an evergreen wreath spruced up with a velvet red bow.
Peaceful spirit is installed in the air, among hugs, kind words, and traditional holiday fair.
There is not a doubt that this is the Christmas Perfect, the flawless representation of a place called Home.
Then my eyes are open and I stand up. My comrade in arms greets me with a clap on the back, our camouflage fatigues blending unremarkably. "Merry Christmas, eh Charlie?"
I'll be home for Christmas,
If only in my dreams.
