The cold is coming
the breeze will bring back old thoughts
of long lost faces
we happily roamed the streets
breathing the air called “midnight”
Poem
As I see the no longer steaming coffee on the table
I run around singing my earsplitting, off key version, of Cold Coffee by Ed Sheeran
As I listen to songs through the makeshift stereo in my dad’s crowded room
I remember the days of collecting mix matched parts to build it
As my toast pops up with a Hello Kitty stamp on it
I get a big whiff of month-old burning crumbs in the bottom of the toaster
As the ice cream and milk spin repeatedly in the whirring blender
I revisit the time when I cried at the shattering of my purple winnie the pooh cup
As I start to see wrapped and tied boxes being placed under the tree
I find myself having to hold back on taking peeks at the presents
As I get into bed the frame creaks
I start to regret the back tucks I did on it the other day
As I read this poem over and over
I thank my memories for never failing to keep me happy and well.
