You stand beside and sing the words with me.
I did the same in Texas years ago.
How is this night different? Come and see.
My childhood seders aren't for you to know.
You draw an orange on your seder plate.
What will you remember as you grow?
You're bleary-eyed: we kept you up too late.
I can't regret allowing you your glee
at finding hidden treasure. Now I wait
to see what sticks. What matters most to me
is that you come to love the telling too.
Once we were slaves to Pharaoh; now we're free.
The songs, the story -- they're my gift to you.
Today's prompt at NaPoWriMo asks us to try terza rima, a form featuring three-line stanzas with a specific rhyme scheme.
My poem arises out of last night's seder, which was wonderful in so many ways. Chag sameach / happy holiday to all who celebrate!