On The Verge of Tears

Tonight my parents come to visit.

We serve dinner and they bring gifts.

Afterwards, my wife hears stories from the source

that shed light on why I am the man I am.

My earliest memories are of passion…

anger and love the same.

They impressed me for a lifetime.

We’ve set up our tree for eight years in a row.

My in-laws just one time.

And as crooked as it may be,

it’s still the warmest thing to me.

This entry was posted on December 24, 2014 at 11:28 PM and is filed under Creative Writing, Friends and Family with tags Christmas, holidays, Writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.