LATE ON CHRISTMAS EVE

 

 

The lights are off...

      the tree all dark,

   though little glitter sparkles

             gleam,

                    still

                        scattered

            on my carpet

   from where the wrapping papers

                              torn heedlessly

                                      and cast aside

      have shed their essence.

The grandchildren

                 all are home

                              and tucked,

       awaiting further plunder

                                      come the morn.

Husband sleeps

                  as does the dog...

    But me?

I sit

    here at my window on the world

                                                    and think.

So tired

        my feet

                       seem barely connected

                                                to my being

And yet

       I smile...

              for today at 10

                                   I danced.

Yes,

   quite in public,

                 caring not at all

                               for watching eyes,

My arms

            around

                       an extension of my heart

   called Kimberly.

Silver Bells,

               yes, Silver Bells,

          was playing

     so...

          I took her soft, young hands

                                                in mine

And right there in the

              ice cream shoppe

                      all glowing red and white

                               beneath the rows of crystal chandeliers

                                            in the aisle

                                                   between the chairs

     we danced.

And my entire being

                          was a smile.

Fondly,

          folks

                   in line to pay their bills

   smiled as they saw

A grandmother in love

             and dancing

                       with her heart.

Then,

        later,

                 in my kitchen as I baked

    the feast for Christmas Eve alone

My mind ranged back long years

                                             to days when I

              was in the role of child

    and my mother,

                    grandmother,

                                    and I,

                                           together

    we three

              prepared the food...

  six hands

       flashing

               in the flour.

And, so, the flow

                     of life

                           was with me

                                          all around

As in my kitchen all alone

              'twas only my own two.

      Where did it go?

Those days

      whose being one would think

                           to last forever

Yet never do?

         So, now, I

                     am grandmother

        and pouring through my door,

                 shedding coats

                                 and hats

                                          and laughter,

Come the progeny of my heart.

            I set my giant turkey on the table

                          glowing gold with crispiness

                                      while little Joey asks

Where his hotdog is.

 

 

 

Jo Anzalone  12-24-2003

Back: Stephen, Joey

Front: Melanie, Emily, Kimberly holding Isabella Rose

 

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