Baskets
Years of baskets and bunnies
and melted chocolate kisses
from children now grown up
but expected soon for dinner.
Too old I know, but a bowl
as centerpiece full to the brim
with all their Easter favorites
would be a nice treat.
Door flies open, and in they come.
Excitement and laughter
fill the echo empty rooms.
Hugs are my favorite treat.
Greetings done, one wanders
searchingly room to room.
Then asks "Where's my basket?"
I laugh. That's my joker.
"No seriously. Where is it?"
No basket. Your too old.
But I steer him to the treats,
all the favorites in the bowl.
Disappointment frowns.
"How old are you?" I ask.
"Twenty," he says.
"Now where's my basket."
No year has passed since,
without baskets all ready.
Santa can retire at our house.
But the Easter Bunny lives on.
This is a true story, and I will never forget his (or his siblings) baskets again! © 2010 Tamera Dobbins