The longest night

The dolls come quickly
jump, shout, hate
drink from the bottle and wee.
Princesses mysteriously disappear
enchanted castles fall down.

I walk along Oxford Street
plastic cards in empty pockets
my imagination full of dreams
professional Father Christmases
with their false beards.

The longest night is approaching
twenty-fourth of December.

The clouds are shining
nostalgic fantasies
the gods on the tree.

I jump across the abyss
hug a dark pond
and throw sugar to the humans.

White water falls on my hands
cold as winter
the enigmatic night goddess
laughs at the lovers.

How many times have I said
I do not believe in illusions
bought in instalments.
Of the longest night
nothing remains the following day.

© Carlos Reyes-Manzo