My Fondest Memory
On the first of every month
Grandpa trimmed his salt and pepper beard
Polished his big black shoes to a shine
Put on a crisp shirt and creased trousers
Held by a weathered leather belt
For his trip to the bank to collect his pension
He bought sweets and snacks of many kinds
Then neatly folded old newspaper to
Make square pieces with a knife
Placed each grandchild’s share in those fresh plates
And waited for them to arrive
Felt like a festival each month
We rushed exceptionally fast from school
Trotting to his room to claim our share
He then pressed a coin in each one’s hand
Unleashing dreams of what all we could buy with that
Rest of the bounty
He stored in a rectangular wicker basket
Secured with a tiny steel lock
The key to the trove he shared only with me because
I was the favorite grandchild
And that was a fact, not a secret
My brothers and sisters flattered and cajoled me
Till the lock hung on the basket
Everyone kowtowing to the crown
Grandpa put on my head
Glittering with his love and trust
How I was the queen for a week each month!
Written on:12/10/2016
Copyright © Sara Chansarkar | Year Posted 2016
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