Seasoned

house with pink door1

All complicated details of this world

are mapped in her brain.

She will thaw them again

in this moonlit night,

she will search for a good recipe

in her Grandma’s journal,

prepare a heavenly dish.

From her windowpane tonight,

a glass half-full of golden dreams

will shift the moon one inch to the left,

and replace wise winter trees

with a naïve giggling spring.

An old record will play lullabies

to calm cold winds that abuse mortals,

and a flaky flame from the fireplace

will keep sleepless nights hopeful,

there will be another tomorrow

showing off its morning to everyone.

**