Strands of Glass in Great Grandmother's Kitchen
Her bunioned feet and my tip tapping toes
slip through dusts of flour
sifting down, down, down on cool tiles.
Sunlight pauses
in beaded glass
click, click, clacking the window panes.
Colors spill
over our gingerbread men
laugh, laugh, laughing in our hands.
Lorie Ann Grover, 2008
7 comments:
Aw, I really love this. :)
This is amazing. I absolutely ADORE this poem.
I love this.
Awesome poem.
LOVE this! Great images :).
Great rhythm too!
Thanks, everyone!
What a great poem and tribute to a great grandmother.
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