Fried Apple Pies
I'm up at dawn, tying the lawnmower to my bicycle. I pull it across town to my grandma's house. For we have a deal. I'm to cut her grass and she's to make me fried apple pies. I don't want to take advantage of my Grandma but I'm getting the better of this deal.
All I have to do is cut the grass. When I m finished Grandma has to gather the flour, salt, cinnamon, rolling pin, pans and skillet. She has to peal the apples and cut them up, roll them in a crust, fry them in hot oil and coat them with powdered sugar. Its hot in her kitchen so I always try to help her.
I don't think she is a good business woman. But a deal is a deal. She makes the pies and tells me she loves me. I eat the pies and tell her that I love her. When I'm done she gives me a big hug and a kiss.
But you know, by the smile on Grandma's face I am starting to think this may be a good deal for the both of us.
Copyright © Timothy Mcguire | Year Posted 2018
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