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Cards at Midnight

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The shirt pooled around my toes,
I swam in the fabrics of my memory
when an old shirt, belt, and imagination
was my dress up.

My little fingers would turn the pages
of an album already full of life
while mine was only beginning
with so much left to learn.

As I grew, I mimicked her,
drinking my cider from a fancy glass
the way she drank her red wine;
standing on my tippy toes
just to see the world from her point of view.

Before long, I saw clear over her head
while she filled mine
with pedaheh recipes, jokes from the priest,
and the best ways to live life.

Now we sit up talking;
always laughing, sometimes crying
and never tiring of
a good game of cards at midnight.





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