Tradition

we gather

the fire pops and crackles,
children's feet patter across the floor,
muted conversations hum
interrupted by roars of laughter
at stories well told
and reminiscences well made;

bodies are stooped and straightened,
faces are lined and brightened,
time has made its marks;

nothing has changed,
everything is different,
this place is emptier,
still it bursts with love
Share

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *