Your blue sled could slide along the snowy earth,
As long as I pulled with a labor of love.
Your childish gaiety and mirth,
Smiles, laughter below, stars and wind above.
You held out a plastic cup to catch the fallen snow.
It fell and fumbled three times, out of grasp.
A fourth time–no mistake–a devious, intentional throw.
You reacted, a melodramatic gasp.
I could pretend to not be annoyed,
but I thoroughly enjoyed your humor.
The peels of laughter and glee employed,
a needling, playful consumer.
You are like your father and mother,
But if I had to guess, there really was no other.
