On The Fifth Floor Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

A cold compote is now on the table,
Rich fruit and dark syrup in a tureen.
The hand that cooked it is more than able
And tops it with richest of cream.

She walked up the steps bringing the bounty
Climbed somber hills and alleys of ice.
Her ironed white tablecloth, best in the county
Was thawed and dragged from the roof at a price.

Yes, mother prepared all details with great care
As father brought in a fragrant tree.
So long ago, that's how we were.
Those Christmases are still with me.