Grandmother's House
Grandmother’s house,
An old-fashioned space
Where I loved to visit -
A special place.
Bubbling jam and
Pickles in jars
A kitchen just meant
For juvenile stars.
Flour in the sifter
As well as the floor.
Little hands pushing
And rolling some more -
Cookies or doughnuts
Or loaves of bread.
Visions of apple pie
Danced in my head.
Always I think
Of Grandmother’s home
As a magical place
Just fit for a “pome”.
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