Grandma's apron dabbed my tears and wiped the baby dry.
Carried wood and eggs and fruit when she would work outside.
We'd run and hide behind it when scared or needed warmed.
It smelled just like the bread and pies she baked in early morn.
She waved good-bye and cooled the food her apron like a flag.
It was really torn and tattered. Was a cradle for my dad.
It's uses were so many. Just like another hand.
But now it hangs just resting beside her frying pan......