Velvet
My mother had a little box,
Like her mother did before,
And inside, a small square of velvet — inky navy blue.
The velvet tucked into the box tucked into a drawer — until the first snow of the year.
The first flakes fall and the velvet emerges, cupped in mom’s hands like a promise.
Outside we watch — mom chooses a perfect flake and holds out the velvet,
a pillow for soft landing.
And there, cradled soft as a whisper,
Our personal snow-star caught in a blue velvet sky.
Like her mother did before,
And inside, a small square of velvet — inky navy blue.
The velvet tucked into the box tucked into a drawer — until the first snow of the year.
The first flakes fall and the velvet emerges, cupped in mom’s hands like a promise.
Outside we watch — mom chooses a perfect flake and holds out the velvet,
a pillow for soft landing.
And there, cradled soft as a whisper,
Our personal snow-star caught in a blue velvet sky.
This poem is copyright (©) Megan Lebron 2024
About the Writer
Megan Lebron
Megan was born in Arcadia Valley, Missouri to two teachers - one a writer and the other an avid reader, so she really never stood a chance. She spent seven years as a high school English, speech and drama teacher before leaving teaching to raise her children full time. After teaching, Megan pursued SEO content writing until she and her husband welcomed their third child in April 2023. Megan has a flash fiction piece “Almost” set to publish in the next issue of Voidspace.
You can find her on Twitter/X @M_elyselebron
