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Red Stenciled cows leap crescent moons in a well-remembered room. Footed cotton sleepers pad, soft and silent from warm bed onto cold floor, 'cross the room with speckled green linoleum. Trotting irresistibly, drawn almost magnetically toward a golden sight, stream of leaked light, spilling out, licking the floor, coming from beneath a door. Beckoning, beckoning. Plotting now, and reckoning. Sneaking in. Now, fling wide the door! See Grandma at age 44, reading glasses on her nose, freckled chin in deep repose. Stream of light, incandescent vapor, from lamp onto her newspaper highlighting iridescent fire, her flowing auburn hair. Waking then, discovering the game, she looks up, smiles, and speaks my name. Swift, sweet imprint, cherished sight. Wild head of red, guardian of my night. |
Additional Notes:
Another take on this very fond memory...my earliest!
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