I found her sifting flour once again
Alone in the corner of our apple-themed kitchen
Smiling and mumbling to the supposed mouse
That owns a three story condo in the wall
‘Snowflakes..
‘Snowflakes pure and simple’ she giggled
Before tossing handfuls of the now fine powder
Into the air…
And all I could do was nod…
You see,
Anna’s just not been the same
Since Theodore went away…
She’s obsessed with winter and falling
Fresh snow
That only tumbles down indoors
During the month of November…
Confused?
Aren’t we all?
But she still swears that there are lessons to be learned when mixing
Cookies, pumpkin spice, warm vodka,
And your lover’s glass eye…
There are some stories that simply should never be allowed
To leave
Our ‘ guest by invitation only ’ table
Come the festival of
Thanksgiving...
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