. . . packed away memories
slowly, carefully unwrapped.
Mother’s paper-thin pink glass bell.
Father’s airplane ornament
one clipped wing, hangs askew.
Brother’s cardboard Santa.
Crayoned red suit and black boots,
thinning cotton-puff beard and cuffs.
His first grade art project
crafted near eighty years ago.
You three sleep eternally
warmed in earth’s loving arms.
But each holiday season
you live with me again,
if only atop my Christmas tree.
Merril hosts Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for global poets. Her prompt for today: “write about any object – a family heirloom, a museum piece, a monument, or a palace. The choice is yours, but there must be some link to history and the past.” The bell and airplane are 90+ years old.
Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!