Again

It’s this time
And again I’m scraping
Barely in beneath the door

And again
My mothers wrapping paper
Another tube
Or wraps
Saved up
And folded from before

And in this little room
Where I am keeping
I embellish gifts
Bought for me
To give to family

Again

The gold paper
Flitters a little
Above the heat
Of this little electric fire here
And downstairs
Everyone