Thursday, November 25, 2021

7 a.m.

it was about this time
that my mother would be up,
putting the turkey
in the oven
to the music of dean martin.
the tree would
be decorated,
her snow globes out.
a wreathe on the door,
stockings hung on the wall.
a little train set circling
her fantasy world.
the windows stenciled
with fake snow.
candy canes, and stars.
this was her happy time
with everyone coming over,
at last, driving from points,
far and far.

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