The light peers round the corner
asking if it may illuminate the way
but what it shows is only the emptyness
left when the unwarpped gifts wander off
leaving only ribbons and quiet paper
not the loud paper from before
and the words now
empty shells that bounce off walls
until they are lost in their tiny compromise
with Mr Newton’s laws
a compromise they fight
with diminishing returns
until there is little left
but the memory of what they said.
And we are saddened, moving
like autonomons around the room
hoping the next ribbon
will hold some warmth
but they never do.
in an unnatural quiet
with what we say.