We like to think of grannies as home bakers, clicking homespun and smelling of freshly baked soda bread but here's one from my childhood who doesn't quite tick these boxes.
Childhood memories can be very clear and keenly felt even after half a century.
So sit with them and see what poems they throw up.
GRAN
No smell of
griddle bread or hiss
of kettle
on the black stove. Just her
in widow
weeds and off-white pinny
beside an
unlit hearth.
Outside in
coop-sized yard siblings squeal
Tig-Tag,”I’m
out.You’re in!” Inside
I sit, amphibian-eyed. She doesn’t lure me in
with soda-bread butter-laced web.
But cross-armed, toothless mouth agape
“You’re just like your mum!”-
hurtled at me with
rasping tongue.
Copyright with Cathy Leonard 2016
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