"Maam, once more with clarity,"
As the detective glanced around an opulent room of great rarity
This was a Christmas-time in a snow- covered New England,
In a home decorated with a Norman Rockwell like hand.
She sat in a bent wood rocking chair in front of a roaring fire,
A regal woman with snow-white hair dressed in elegant attire.
With a quaver in her cultured voice and tears in her eyes,
She started to speak softly with a gentle sigh.
Then, she placed a finely veined hand to her face,
Rose from her chair and started to pace.
She was a beautiful woman, though of advanced age,
And told her story as she if she was reading from a page.
My cruise was over and I was heading home.
I had dropped my friends off early and I was alone.
It was a dark and dreary night on the rainy inner-state
I was getting tired and it was getting very, very late.
Somewhere along way the rain turned to snow.
I started to hurry; I didn't have too far to go.
I don't know what happened then, but my car began to roll,
Awhile later I awoke, my car upside-down in a ditch full of snow.
I remember feeling so cold and so desperately alone,
My purse was gone and so was my cell phone.
Then I heard the sirens and saw glimmering lights,
And a young man asked me if I was all right.
She appeared shortly after that,
The pretty middle-aged lady wore a bright red hat.
I remember her smile and her concern
Now, I wished her name I would have learned.
"Young man, you need to understand,
You absolutely have to find her if you can."
The detective stared at her with an exasperated sigh,
"Lady can you please, please tell me why."
Then she reached out her manicured hand,
She took a pair of red mittens from a decorative stand
Touching the mittens with great care
She told of the story when they were cold and bare.
"Young man, I don't know how long I laid there all alone."
Thinking I was dying so close to home.
I remember this young woman's greatest concern
My comfort is what she then truly did yearn.
She placed her red hat on my bruised and battered head.
Then gazed down so lovingly at the crocheted mittens, so red.
You remind me of my grandmother who made these for me.
They were the last pair she ever made, you see.
Then she told me of this last love-filled gift
I knew she told it to me to give my heart a lift.
She died only days after she sent them to me.
See, inside the cuff it says "love grandma, 1983"
"But maam, what can you tell me "
You haven"t given me much information you see.
Can you tell me the make or model of her car?
Does she live close did she come from afar?
The old woman cried and shook her head.
I only know, young man, is that I could have been dead
She gave me hope in this special season.
I must find her now, for you know the reason.
I need to return these special mittens, you see
It would be the best Christmas gift for me
But I all I know for sure is what the inscription said
She loved those mitten made by her grandma who is dead
All I know is what the inscription said
And of course...
