My memory is red wrapping paper
crinkled at the corners.
It has a tear in the side
where the glittering star
meets the tangle top prints of evergreens
and frosted snow.
My memory is bits and pieces
held together with tape.
It was wrapped by a child –
steaming mug of cocoa by their side
with three ice cubes, melting glaciers
bouncing off the marshmallows.
My memory scratches the backs of my hands –
wooly mitten remembering.
It crackles like a fireplace,
sends a shiver as fingertips across the base of my hair,
hot coal alms pouring from its mouth
into my waiting, empty hands.
© Laura A. Lord, 2020
Thank you to MindLoveMisery for the prompt.