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Poem: Mittens

Memories of mother always bring warmth
In the cold winter months
That smell of snow while I smell our kitchen
Roasting meats and hot stews
Just barely overpowering the wood smoke
That permeates the home in all seasons
And there is mother in her apron
Legs crossed rocking by the crackling fire
Fingers work almost imperceptibly
With needles threading wool mittens
In something other than plain brown
Her skills etched out a wavy yellow pattern
That will make Donny jealous
When he sees them wrapped around
Cold steel chains of playground swings
The kids will see simple items of warmth
My fingers connect to my heart
With the smells of home in the winter
And an indomitable woman sitting
On her throne making sure her little prince
Is never cold

Inspired tangentially by the Bernie memes.

Copyright © 2021 TJS Sherman All rights reserved.


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