Imagining the Child

I wonder what the child will look like,
Mary says to Elizabeth.
From the warm kitchen,
soup steam rises
along with the aroma of freshly cut flowers.
A little like you, and like his Father, too,
Elizabeth says.
Like his Father? Have you lifted the veil?
Just imagining, my dear.
But not like Joseph,
No, not like Joseph.
Together, they laugh,
cheeks blushing.

___

Merry Christmas to you!

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