Chestnut Memories

As my scarf grazes my nose, I can smell it.
I breathe deep, and my senses are filled with roasted chestnuts.
I close my eyes, and I am taken to a different time.
My hands are warmed by the paper cone overflowing with chestnuts.
As we walk the dark, cold path,
The illuminated animals dance all around.
The flakes falling from the sky are sticking to my eyelashes,
And it gives the hippopotamus a frosty glow.
It is magical.
I can’t tell if my face hurts from the cold or from the constant laughter.
I revel in this moment.
This cinnamon, sweet memory.
My eyes open as my scarf takes its place around my neck,
And I step out the door to the bright day ahead.


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