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