Fireworks boom a day early
Celebration couldn’t wait
Patriotism!

Photo by Yasemin K. on Unsplash
A tisket, a tasket, a May-day basket.
Who left you at my door
all those years before?
Why don’t we do this anymore?
The orphan at your table
didn’t ask to be invited.
She’d rather be down at the diner where
The waitress knows.
Knows she likes sweet tea
and hot cinnamon rolls.
She fills the cup without comment
when the orphan has her head in a book.
In just a few more chapters
Mr. Wickham gets his comeuppance
and the cinnamon rolls
are really good on Thursdays.
The orphan at your table
hears all your whispered pity
The muttered comments in the kitchen
She takes them on the chin, with a smile.
Behind her grin she knows it
knows your motives better than you do
She’s here not for her pleasure
but for your benevolence.
The orphan at the diner
sips her sweet tea
This year she escaped the Lady Bountifuls
The cinnamon rolls are perfect.
Wexford Carol