A Knock at the Door

A Knock at the Door
Marianne Lyon

I didn’t know it this morning
but I was gifted a miracle-time when
a soft hand taps my front door
I open it and she warmly stares at me
I welcome her as I welcome
my face in bathroom mirror each dawn
we offer each other a timid smile
I say, come in, a cup of tea?
I slowly begin to feel that she is the myself
I have let become a stranger

Closer, she says
let me whisper about a remembrance
a childhood promise we made
when we sang together
under Grandpa’s Apple Tree
bounced on Dad’s knee
when we crooned loudly
crossed our hearts
to always remain inseparable

And I don’t know how but
we rise and begin to hum
sing about the choosing of a ripened orb
offering itself from low drooping branch
I hear melodic giggling
as sticky juice runs down our chins

It happens so fast
I barely understand when
I give her my hand
as if it holds that precious fruit
but it is really the cross-my-heart
I am giving back to myself
with the same promise
we made under the apples
so long ago

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