Come the Snow
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It was an early Christmas present
I was so anxious to give it to him
It was so soft and luxurious
I thought how it would keep him warm
With the winter months ahead
Turned out he didn’t need it
He never saw one flake of snow that year
No more walks across the fields
To his creek over the bridge he built
To the cabin with his woodstove
Where he’d percolate fresh coffee
And toast bread on its hot surface
In a flash it was all delegated to a distant past
How I would treasure that snapped photo
Of my father’s precious smile
As he tried on his new fur hunting hat
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~A SIMPLE MAN~ 2020
AP: 1st place 2020
Posted on February 17, 2020
Copyright © Line Gauthier | Year Posted 2020
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