Margaret

For a few seconds, I can forget the human, I can just know the humanity. Margaret from across the street is eighty-three, My mother is fifty-three. Sweet tea is eternal, it would seem. They're talking candy for Christmas: Peanut brittle and cinnamon rolls, Potato taffy and candy canes, Holidays and pine trees wrapped up in twinkle lights, And in a shimmering tinsel. And I can forget about the human, I listen in on just humanity. One day, I think, I hope to be Margaret, talking to a friend thirty years younger, from across the street. Trading stories for tomatoes, and crocheted blankets for smiles and strawberries. Craft fairs for Christmas, And love unspoken.