Poems by Ann D. Stevenson

I heard your voice,
I saw you grin,
I tasted your lips,
I breathed you in,
I held you close,
I touched your skin.

My sixth sense said,
"I’ll marry him."

Christmas here once more,
hard to ignore, festive
wreaths on every door.

Housed inside is needled
pine, bright baubles shine
with tiny twinkling lights.

Trees glow, festive music
flows, lifts up hearts, baking
starts, excitement grows.

Little sticky fingers help frost
white icing on the cake, set mini
figures among the snowy peaks.

Traditional food abounds,
turkey with all its trimmings,
a flame-lit Christmas pudding.

Snaps of bursting crackers,
scattered paper hats and jokes,
sounds of popping corks.

Glasses brimmed with bubbles
of good cheer - that's how it is
for some - at this time of year.