Once I lived where it snowed
in a Life-sized home graced
with ambience of another era;
rooms where babies were born
and a brass plate on the dining
room door glistened as kindred
in succession smothered plates
of love food on heavy wood
pedestals. Bronzed gas lights

 shadowed the warmed  fretwork
of oak. Leaded jewels danced their
way to a glazed landscape out the
bayed window. A gentleman built it
For his bride. I hung their types of tin
above the graceful stair. Our hopes
echoed theirs. Beyond the dining
pane gnarled lilac recorded sequels,
the elegant structure, the narrative.

The voices are of the patina. 
“It is a Christmas house,” my
Mother said. We added red
flocked entry paper. Cedar, holly,
red ribbon celebrated the deed
newel, the floor tiny footsteps of
the future, while hand over gnarled
hand against a sighing instrument
to song increased the parlor.

Quiet on that Remembered Eve
we ducked about pine boughs,
rime contently yielding to a lofty
carillon, bodies sky-blessed with
alabaster laces. Eminent Spirits all
lead the feted path to home, one lit
with inherited family where another
ancestral print, our newly born child,
increased its loving wood that night.

Once I lived where it snowed.  
 

Copyright ©  2006 Cara

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