Aprons
I wear an apron when I bake –
It used to be my mother’s.
I like that old connection, ‘cause
I could be wearing others.
For many years you couldn’t find
An apron anywhere,
Except a plain old white one,
Lacking kitschiness or flair.
When I was younger, housewives had
A kitchen-y collection;
The aprons then were purposeful,
Not objects of affection.
But now in stores, they’re back in stock
In patterns most delightful.
A yearning back to simpler times?
Although that sounds insightful,
I think it’s just a retro thing –
To see the past as cool;
Yet batter-spattered aprons prove
The wearer is no fool!
Copyright © Ilene Bauer | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment