Christmas Dinner with the Folks

Music accompanied the
twinkling lights on the lawn.
Santa was gingerly tacking
the reins on the rooftop,
and the snow glistened on the walk.
Sleigh bells ring, are ya listenin?
But, there were no
footprints on the porch.
Newspaper lay at the doorstep,
still in its cellophane.
How odd, I thought.
A knock and no answer.
A smell of roasting meats
infested my nose
as I dug for the keys.
Baby Jesus under the eaves
glared at me…
a forewarning.
Around to the back
where the garden gnome
hides Mom’s key…and there she was.
Stone silent as the sirens bellowed
down the street.
In the windows, the flames blazed.
Dad had been dead for days
they told me.
Crazy, it wasn’t the roast I smelled
cooking.