When They Come Home for Christmas

When They Come Home

for Christmas

Kelli Lage

He is warm dough rising.
Cookbooks scattered across the kitchen counter
means he’s home.
Home can be with people who don’t have the same
blanket from childhood as you.
When the wintry light hits his hair,
it mimics the golden crisp of homemade rolls.
He is comfort food and
roaring laughter from the pit of my stomach all in one.
She is a beacon of caramel curls.
Mother nature’s voice ringing out
means she’s home.
I curl into a den of her lullabies.
The ancient piano revived to it golden era
by the tremor of her fingers.
I make a nook in the chorus,
so I can climb back into it when I ache for them.
To be home.
To celebrate Christmas.

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Kelli Lage
Poet

Kelli lives in the Midwest countryside. Her work has appeared in Paddler Press, Watershed Review, Welter Journal, Lyrical Iowa and more. Lage is currently earning her degree in Secondary English Education and works as a substitute teacher. Awards: Special Award for First-time Entrant, 2020, Iowa Poetry Association. Website: www.KelliLage.com.

Photography by Olena Sergienko