I remember walking down the street
With my sister by my side, holding
A small Christmas tree, needle-green,
That we got from Mr. Samuels' yard.
The night air smelled of distant jazz
And jambalaya simmering in pots.
We carried that tree like stolen treasure,
Its pine scent mingling with the city’s
Old smells of decay and hope,
Past hidden courtyards and empty spaces.
Streetlights flickered like tired stars,
Casting ghosts onto cracked pavements.
Our footsteps whispered ancient secrets,
As if the sidewalks had grown wise.
Navigating between shadows and light,
New Orleans laid out like an open wound,
And our small tree, a bandage of green,
Made us believe in small miracles,
Enough to keep walking with our load,
All the way to our house in the Marigny.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: December 21st, 2024 12:50
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
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Comments3
A great image (you didn't really steal that tree from someone's yard that would give it a different flavor like a stollen mellon and nothing tastes sweeter) Some great lines in this poem with marvelous imagery that made me feel that I was there. Very skillful writing
No Mr. Samuels gave us the tree from his huge backyard. Thanks for sharing your feedback Soren. Merry Christmas
It paints a lovely homely picture as you read through the poem, a lovely poem for this time of year, really enjoyed the read
Beautiful memories! We were like little Christmas elves as kids, as well. Just had a FaceTime with the siblings late yesterday. It's not the same but it's a way to connect these days.
Thanks for sharing your feedback, I appreciate it. This will be the first Christmas without my mom, so it's tough.
That first one can be quite tough. This will be the second without dad. Sending warmth your way. 🙏🏻
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