Through the candy store
up the backstairs
sits a large open room,
fragrant with chocolate and spice.

The older women
sit perched on stools,
rhythmically dipping caramels
into a river of chocolate.

A hundred years
of family tradition
pours into each candy mold.

Cousin Buddy decorates
large chocolate eggs,
like his father
before him.

I find the Easter basket
meant for me.

My name appears
looped in cursive letters
on a tall white chocolate bunny,
nestled in a sea of synthetic grass.

Back down the stairs
my siblings and I tramp,
tucking memories
into our baskets
to revisit
each Easter.