For him. For Christmas.


I had a dream
That I awoke in my bed in my parents house
In that tiny, sleepy town in Maine
On a snowy, winter night.
I opened my eyes and saw the lightdark, snow-filled sky.
Everything was the same as it always was
Except one thing
You were there with me.
I turned and you were asleep next to me,
Warm and beautiful.
I curled up next to you.
You awoke and looked at me in the dark with those amazing deep, glistening eyes
And whispered to me, "Is it snowing?"
I whispered back, "Yes, my love."
"Yes!' you said, in that way you do.
"I want to see it," you said, getting up and crawling out of bed.
And even though I wanted you here with me,
I moved to the warm space where you had been
And watched as you ran to the window.
Then, you grabbed your clothes and put them on.
And I knew where you were going.
In the cold,
In the dark,
I heard you go out the backdoor
And moments later,
I saw you from the window.
Dancing in the snow.
Just as you had in front of the store last winter.
And then, tears filled my eyes as I watched you.
You fell down into the snow and made a snow angel.
I watched as you moved your arms and legs to form the wings and the skirt.
And then, you got up and made another
And another and another and another
Until the whole side of the yard was filled with angels.
Then you disappeared around the back of the house again.
And I heard you creep back into the house.
I heard the door close and heard the lock turn.
Heard your footsteps in the kitchen
In the hall
On the stairs
In the upstairs hall
In my room.
You took off your clothes again,
Climbed back into bed.
And once again, the warmth of you was beside me.
I kissed you.
And I fell asleep again,
Hearing the words of Lauren Hill in my head,
"Sweet prince of the ghetto, your kisses taste like amaretto."

All writing contained in this website 1998-2005 by Betty A. Parker