Granny carries washin' in a basket
to the line out back
I remember
it's plastic liner with strawberry buds
I'd sit in it's fields
making hollyhock skirts
on clothespin ballerinas
the sun was bright
the air warm and flowing
summer was my childhood
Granny was my light
soft hands
wrinkled brow
kissing cheeks
and holding hands...
let's ride the bus downtown
white gloves drop nickels in a slot
and that soft seersucker dress
comforts my stride
we'll get licorice Scottie dogs
at the five n dime
if you're a good girl
I'm always good for Granny
even at the butcher
the floor had it's familiar creak
and faint smell of cigars
I long for 'em again
those comforting days
Grandpa will want a roast beef for dinner
shall we make a pie...
mem'ries in a basket
a little girl's dreams
her Granny and
a basket of ferns
in the shades of a summer
I shall n'er forget.
s.wilson
Memories flood of a simpler day when a child and her Granny were best friends and formed bonds strong. Do you remember when our Grannys' wore the white gloves always to town, with her purse dangling on her bent arm...her nylons and those old shoes, you know the ones, with the short heels, just made for walkin' comfortably to the bus, as my Granny never drove, which was typical for that day and she always had on pearls in every color, gems a young girl never forgets.
But I loved to be with my Granny, the memories flood my days...just a simple clothes basket bring them all home again and into your hearts on our favorite meme...Shadow Shot Sunday...won't you tag along...
