MAMA'S BUSY KNEADING CHRISTMAS DOUGH

Squint across footsteps in the snow,
attesting that you've been there.
Advertise to mama your imprinted nose
from the kitchen window.
Mama's busy kneading Christmas dough.
The smile skips free of your broken
mouthpiece
to hide among lonely trees.
at the watercolor sky
that always threatens to go pastel.
Friendly lost playmates
scramble into your memory.
"Come find me!" you challenge.
None at all appear.
No playmates
to scrape away rusty dreams and draw
new ones.