Margaret
For a few seconds, I can forget the human,
I can just know the humanity.
Margaret from across the street is eighty-three,
My mother is fifty-three.
Sweet tea is eternal, it would seem.
They're talking candy for Christmas:
Peanut brittle and cinnamon rolls,
Potato taffy and candy canes,
Holidays and pine trees wrapped up in twinkle lights,
And in a shimmering tinsel.
And I can forget about the human,
I listen in on just humanity.
One day, I think, I hope to be Margaret,
talking to a friend thirty years younger,
from across the street.
Trading stories for tomatoes,
and crocheted blankets for smiles and strawberries.
Craft fairs for Christmas,
And love unspoken.
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