fond memories

Written by: Sandra Adams

through the window i peered
intricate layers of lace
painted by old man winter
obscured my view of any visible signs

the snow outside was deep
but the emotions inside ran deeper

i remember waking Christmas morn
empty plate and cup littered the sink
fancy gifts. delicately placed
beneath the now silent tree

giggles of children covered the sounds
of ripping paper being scattered about
beneath the layers of red, green, gold,
topped with only a bow, i recall that doll
trying to summersault her way over to me
(better than i ever could) little “tumbelina”
the only gift i wished for, the only thing
that seemed to matter that Christmas day
to a child who still believed in the magic
of santa, his reindeer and sleigh