Remember Me
Stubborn Aunt Nini,
Not your real name of course,
It’s more like an cicilian slur,
Than a little old women,
Baking Christmas cookies all day
Just to send them in literal trunk loads
To the whole family,
Around the country.
Squeezing cheeks,
And smells of tomato and storage,
Hiding under your overgrown trees,
Or sledding down your driveway.
I’ll always have memories
Of Aunt Nini.
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