The cluster of books and an Ipod, I layamong them woefully watching the snow. Dresses filling my closet no-more, filled with warmth only, I stood up.
Voices could be heard, rivaling that of the radio. The sound of pans as my mom cooked, aromas filled my room.
As I trailed downstairs, my brother ran around.Wouldn't be long til winter was gone and parks abound for festivals.
The feast was underhand, the dishes and pans were passed in a symphony of movement. My silver and gold plate now filled with home-cooked love.
Once done the haphazard job of picking up the plates began. Once a chore now a game, the board clear I returned with a full belly. Once again laying among my most cherished belongings'.
©
K