If Mama's Glider Could Talk
If Mama’s Glider Could Talk
Cold days, hot days, in between days,
The red glider rocked on the gingerbread porch;
Where Mama shucked beans, or mended seams,
And visited with comers all.
She was quiet, my Mama was
And would never repeat a tale,
Kept her opinions to herself,
And rocked the red glider well.
There was Dickie, the paper boy,
He told her of his girl,
And how his daddy abused him,
And Mama rocked the red glider well.
The young and lonely bride from across the street,
Came to visit, ‘til hubby finished his work day;
He wouldn’t take her out or help;
The little red glider rocked away.
Her own daughter and her intended,
Kissed there their first time in the fall,
Life lived and loved and grew on it,
And the little red glider rocked for it all.
Little children did “tricks” on the grass,
Daisies bloomed against the wall,
It was just old-time psychiatry,
And the little red glider heard it all.
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