Flicker of a Past Light

The boxes emerge, an annual rite, dust-kissed plastic, faded light. Each strand unwound, a practiced hand, assembling joy across the land. A flicker caught, a distant grace, reflecting in a polished space. We string the stars, a hopeful art, to mend the fractures of the heart. This mimicry of bygone cheer, a transient truce against the year. The perfect façade, meticulously placed, a borrowed warmth, then swiftly chased.