-For Grampy
Your bright-eyed
little girl perks up
At the sound of
your pick-up
dying in the
driveway.
She flies out to
greet you, as she does daily
At 7:08 sharp.
Her fragile arms
coil around your sturdy legs,
And you waltz
towards your modest palace.
Her frozen bare feet
with toenails painted pink
Are planted firmly
on your water-stained work boots.
You dance in step
to the whispers of the sodden wind
As glittery ice
crystals descend onto the sparkling asphalt.
Together, you
huddle by the glowing gas stove,
Wrapped in a
chrysalis of patchwork quilts,
Sipping cocoa
with a toppling tower of whipped cream
You return to the kitchen with empty mugs
And a little girl giddily perched on your shoulders.
You snatch a can of Cherry Pie Filling from the nearly-empty
pantry
And a community wooden spoon to devour it straight from the can.
To close the wondrous, at-home evening
You dance as “Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star”
Projects from the plastic Fischer Price record player.
When the clock strikes 8
o’clock
You carry her up to bed,
And tuck her safely under the pink covers.
You loll her to a
peaceful slumber with fairy tale stories
of knights in
shining armor, masquerade balls
and happily
ever-afters.
Despite the
winter night beyond the bedroom wall,
Her pure face melts
your heart,
keeping you warm
for the night.
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