Christmas Tritina

On the windowpane, feathered frost dances in a curl;

Across town, the train whistle sounds one lonely note.

I burrow further, my pajamas sliding on sheets of satin.

 

The snow is freshly fallen, smooth and glistening satin.

Mrs. Glenn’s wood stove puffs a smoky curl.

Of these small details, I take note.

 

To my sister I pen a Christmas note,

The luxurious paper glides like satin,

And I sign my name with a heart in the C’s curl.

 

Around the envelope I curl a ribbon, the note tied up with satin.

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