The unused cold grill, was turning flaming hot

Who knew if the guests, would show or not

Mother dressed in her usual black, with death lace

Eyes were present, but there was no smile on her face

Father didn’t arrive, but watched from the window below

Looking up at the skies raining, red blood of new snow

Granny who was pushing, a hundred and two scary years

Was laughing and telling tales, bringing us spooks to tears

Woolfie or also known as, little furry rascal of a brother

He was raised in the woods, and found by our mother

As we all settled, down around the blazing fire flames of heat

Our visitors or company arrived, expecting yummy things to eat