by Rebecca Xi
I sit here gazing at the blue painted pole
around which is twisted a cheap plastic vine.
Around a barren, frozen, snow-laden tree,
emerald holly with scarlet berries entwines.
I look at the tiny Christmas tree on the desk
with thin golden ribbon running round and round.
A looming, gorgeous turquoise-blue spruce
casts stretching shadows on the snow-coated ground.
I tilt back my head and look at the ceiling,
fluorescent lights and piping and all.
I push myself off from the snow and leap up
like a pouncing cat – but back down I don’t fall.
Instead, I soar higher and higher, till finally
the air grows too thin to breath. With one last
look at the stars, I gently float down to earth
and glide to the top of a snowy pine tree.
I rest on a branch and observe my surroundings:
white frozen forests and stretching white plains.
In the foggy distance, pale misty mountains
raising jagged heads adorned with snowy crowns reign.
Here I am, in my own private world,
and my beautiful, perfect world I’ll never leave.
Scoff all you want: my world will always
be more real to me than your galaxy.
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