The feeble photo captured us
standing on the bridge,
two of us in yellow shirts,
four in red,
two blue,
and two white

Weak leaves fell behind us
as we smiled,
the sun gleaming
in our faces

Us cousins
were young and naive,
yet we held a bond,
seemingly invincible,
never to be broken

Years passed by unnoticed,
where we all played poker,
all gave gifts,
all wished for a happy birthday,
until the photo faded
just like that very bond

Our beloved grandmother,
As special and dear,
As witty and loving,
As true and genuine,
as she may have been,
her death broke the bond

Our aunt declared that
our Christmas routine shall become no more,
no gifts,
no cards,
no food,
all vanished from the world

But she,
just one of the villains in the tale,
wouldn’t hold us back,
and us cousins eagerly await for Christmas Eve,
my birthday,
to see each other again,
with or without that Christian devil.