She has a birthday in the winter all right
And she arrived with the wind-driven snow
Born at Grandma’s house in frigid South Dakota
That December so very long ago
Her skin is still as creamy beige as it was
Though now her hair is platinum silver strands
And her hands are indicative of many years
That she toiled and cooked and did shorthand
She sits with her crossword puzzle on her lap
Her pencil behind her ear, house robe doubling as a frock
Her mind is as sharp as a turkey knife on Thanksgiving
And she’s never exhibited rattling old-lady voice
She’s still a girl in my mind, a female friend
With the 700 page book she is reading
Marked with a feather at page 457
And the scents of coffee hung in the air
Her name is Audrey and she’s my Mom
Who will turn 89 this Christmas Day
Born at Grandma’s house in frigid South Dakota
That December so very long ago
(12-10-2013)
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