The rusted tool chest on wheels now
a silent reminder of childhood wonder
when in mystery it did appear as
the night spread before us and sleep
a distant presence wrapped
in the excitement of holiday magic
we were sent to bed you and I
to await the morning’s sunrise
but I was vigilant and
so were you
as I listened to laughter seeping
beneath the door I smelled the
familiar scent of cigarette smoke
unfurling
from the neighbor who often was seen
visiting but it was late at night….and
I knew something or someone was about
as I saw you quietly push the door
to opening
I wanted to know if the gossip was true
that there was no Santa or St Nicholas
who would magically appear for
wishes come true
as we peeked carefully into the living room
it was mother who busied herself there
with the wonder of
holiday gifts
and fare
a shiny red tool box on wheels she moved
beside the tree as she smiled
with care
© October 2017 Renee Espriu
This is in response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday Writing Prompt. Read more at https://jamiededes.com/2017/10/18/the-scent-of-maamoul-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. The photo below was taken from the Morgue File and digitally altered by myself.
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