Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Christmas Smells

Around me is the smell of Douglass Fir.
Beside the tree upon the floor my wild black cur.

He smells of rain and mud and dreary snow.
On the wall I often see a red stocking toe

Which smells of milk like a rattle and a baby's quilt.
I remember a gingerbread house once built

So fast the cookie men drifted quickly to the side.
My pumpkin pie is burnt. The bottom crust I hide.

The cinnamon and cloves are sweetly mixed with my sad cry.
Reminding myself another year I can try

to avoid the burnt smell that lifts through the air
and makes my happy smile turn to one big flowing tear.

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