The Christmas Parade of Shadows

Imagine a Christmas parade,
where everyone wears transparent suits,
bodies cloaked in whispers,
while the crowd cheers at nothing,
their voices echoing in a hollow space,
a cacophony of anticipation,
yet no one knows why.

Giant, shadowy figures march down the street,
their forms shifting and swirling,
casting elongated silhouettes
that dance against the cold pavement,
where laughter becomes a distant memory,
and joy is an echo lost in the fog.
Each step a disorienting waltz,
the rhythm of the unreal.

Colorful lights don’t shine;
they collapse in on themselves,
swallowing the parade whole,
as ribbons of color twist and twirl,
imploding with a soft sigh,
leaving behind a spectrum of absence,
a haunting reminder of brilliance faded.

The air is thick with the scent of something forgotten,
as candy canes bend to the will of shadows,
and ornaments hang in a void,
reflecting nothing but the weight of silence.
Faces in the crowd flicker like candle flames,
glimpses of joy lost in the folds of time,
each cheer…