By Andrew McClure, Soldotna
As I sit in my chair, surrounded
By my nieces and nephews,
I tell of my childhood, story after story,
Laughing and sighing.
I suddenly remember a small piece
Of life very dear to me,
I ask a niece near my feet if she knew
That there was a secret world
It was a small world, only making
Its appearance part of the year,
It had a house, a shed full of tools,
And a perfect little snowman.
I ask my little friend, now moved
Onto my lap, if she would like to
See this world of mine?
She reassured me that she did.
On the mantle piece it stood,
As I put it into her little hands,
I turned over the snow globe.
We both exchanged smiles.