Old-Fashioned Parloring
Old-fashioned parloring. Dreaming
of friendship with tea and cakes.
Feathered fascinators, blooming hats,
all dressed like a bountiful bouquet.
Chatterbox of lovely talk, liveliness
in eyes and lips. Excitement of togetherness.
A cozy of ladies is the best. Dress us up,
kiss us with tasty treats and sips of chai.
Such is the picture of yesteryear, placed
in the Southerner's space. Children pass by
with hardly a howdy-do. Little girls pleased
by a lit up screen, chattering at a box,
unable to size up the others by their character,
wearing ripped up jeans and too small shirts.
These girls don’t know the beauty of baking,
the blossoming of a glass teapot, the lumping
of sugar, an afternoon of nestling in proverbial
glow with sun streaming its shadows on the wall.
One girl glances up, her eyes fly off, like butterflies,
into the space behind the frame, the fragile glass
removed for this moment of time. Her great-grandma
smiles and weeps, holds hope for this progeny.
Suddenly, the girl of twelve, is whisked away in time.
She’s seated at a fresh set table, not questioning why.
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