Falling back into time,
I feel the frigidness of a
December night on my cheeks.
But I too feel the warmth of his hands
and the grumble in my stomach.

Falling back into time,
feeling the grumble in my stomach,
there’s no space in three restaurants.
I feel the chill of December
and our everlasting hope.

Falling back into time,
I feel our everlasting hope, and
we waltz into another restaurant.
I feel unwanted
and undeniable hunger.

Falling back into time,
feeling our undeniable hunger,
we walk past Granny’s House.
I feel one last taste of hope,
and my feet walking up old wooden steps.

Falling back into time,
I feel my knuckles on cold wood,
as Granny opens the door.
Feeling our stomachs full and happy
the cold air nips at our cheeks,
as we fall back into the present.