The Ghost of the Year Past
In a dark wood, she stood
in a circle of yews,
each one knotted with red thread,
lest we forget.
On each tree, a rune, a foreboding.
We’d passed this way before.
To me, she looked like a corpse bride,
her face masked with her own hand,
unable to tell the story of
2020.
In her other hand she held a bouquet
of white Christmas roses.
As I watched, she grew blue with cold.
The sky opened, until she was veiled in snowflakes,
each crystal, each cross-stich and half-stich as fine as lace.
Every snowflake unique, over 70,000 now.
The look she gave me chilled me to the bone.
She tossed her bouquet into the New Year
and I caught it, its thorns needles of ice,
drawing blood.
I couldn’t follow her. When she left
her tracks were lost to the blizzard.
I sniffed the roses and they were still as sweet.
Turning away, I found a new path.
Sandra Ireland, 2021
Sandra Ireland 
Love this Sandra – so evocative, so chilling.
LikeLike
Thanks so much, Sue. Best wishes to you and yours xx
LikeLike
Haunting and compelling, with superb imagery to wake up to on New Year’s Day. Thank you! May the year ahead be good to you and yours.
LikeLike
Thank you so much, Elaine. Best wishes to you xx
LikeLike
That’s very atmospheric and
paints a picture. Ken and me
Send wishes for a happy healthy
New year. A new page in our
Book. Love Yvonne and Ken.X
LikeLike
Thank you- lovely to hear from you. Best wishes to yourself and Ken xx
LikeLike
So beautifully said. May we all find a new path through the New Year.
LikeLike
Thank you, Pauline. Yes, indeed x
LikeLike
This is beautiful. Absolutely love it. xxx
LikeLike
Thank you. Noelle! xx
LikeLike