A Day With Grandma
I stood on the old wooden chair,
my sweet old grandma, watching;
I can still smell the red apples,
and the pie dough we were rolling.
We carefully put the pie in the oven,
and sat at the kitchen table talking;
We drank tea and told stories,
in the living room grandpa was snoring.
Later, grandma in her rocking chair,
would soothe my head, gently stroking;
I still remember she hummed a tune,
and soon we would both be sleeping.
____________________________________
September 1, 2013
Poetry/Quatrain/A Day With Grandma
Copyright Protected, ID 09-502-886-01
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
For the Standard contest, You're a Little Kid Again,
sponsor, Juli-Michelle, Judged 2013
Third Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2013
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