Times of Change

  The fists pounded on every door in the home The pads of their feet, rhythmic, as the two boys roam   “What did Santa bring me?” the littlest red head exclaimed “Stupid, Santa aien’t real,” his brother retorted, attitude mostly untamed   “Neither is the word, aien’t,” corrected the boys’ father,  Stress drawn deep across his pressed blue collar.   “And we don’t… Continue reading Times of Change