sara Etgen-Baker Poet Free verse

Notes About The Poem

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Mrs. Elma Nicholson was one of Garland's early female entrepreneurs; she established “Nicholson’s Variety Store” in downtown Garland to help support her family after she was widowed. Her husband, Stephen Edwin Nicholson, a former Garland mayor, perished in the deadly May 11, 1927, tornado that swept through Garland. Mrs. Nicholson made dreams come true for many a Garland kiddo back in the day. Her store was a legend on the former Square, as many local children would spend their hard-earned allowances in the store. Their parents would conspire with "Mrs. Nick" to set aside dolls or other toys for Christmas gifts to be retrieved just before Christmas Eve.  (Source: Garland Historical Society)

WHERE TIME COMES TO LOITER

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The bell above the door still jingles~
a sound like nickels spilling from a tin. 
Inside, the air smells of licorice and mildew,  
of something sweet refusing to let go. 
 
Dusty glass licorice jars sit on the shelf.
A single ceiling bulb flickers 
over penny candies wrapped in wax.  

Wooden floorboards groan underfoot,  
remembering when kids reached for treats on the top shelf
 
A rotary phone rests on the counter, black and patient,  
its coiled cord a noose for yesterday’s conversations.  

Behind the counter, Mrs. Nicholson stalworth stands;
she’d grown up in our town, 
knew everyone and just about everything
about everyone. 

She also knew where everything lived~  
the peppermints, the lye soap, the brittle  
catalogues from 1947 curling at the edges. 
 
She moved slowly, dust rising in her wake,  
a pioneer woman who remembered 
world wars, the Great Depression, and
when bread cost a dime.  

Behind the register, her apron now hangs empty,  
still smelling of peppermint and camphor.  

I pause.
This is where time comes to loiter.

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Line Gauthier December 16, 2025 at 3:59 PM Lovely imagery ~ nostalgic of an era past sara Etgen-Baker December 16, 2025 at 5:24 PM thanks for visiting and for commenting.

Sara Kendrick December 15, 2025 at 5:17 AM I remember the old country stores of the past and then the 5 and dime stores later on. At one time, they were a homey way to get what was needed. Thanks for sharing this memory with us. If for a contest, it reads like a good contender to me. Sara K. sara Etgen-Baker December 16, 2025 at 5:25 PM yes, they were a 'homey' way of getting what was needed...always an adventure in sight and smell. Thanks for your visit, Sara K. Merry Christmas, Sara B

Gershon Wolf December 14, 2025 at 7:26 PM I'm misty-eyed reading this, Sara. So well-done: All my senses engaged in this sentimental-nostalgic masterpiece. Thank you, Gershon sara Etgen-Baker December 16, 2025 at 5:26 PM awww, thank you Gershon. Your response was touching and heartwarming. Thank you! Season's Greetings, Sara

Paige Hind December 14, 2025 at 6:59 PM A lovely dedication, each line moves with grace sara Etgen-Baker December 16, 2025 at 5:26 PM wow, thank you, Paige....appreciate your lovely comments, hugs

Justin Bordner December 14, 2025 at 7:04 AM A candied touch of metaphysics wtitten with an eager empathy. This is high level writing Poetess. You clearly have a great command of craft. "A rotary phone rests on the counter, black and patient, it's coiled cord a noose for yesterday's conversations..." a delicious description!...I would like you to read my composition titled, Operation Money Jump, a piece about D.B. Cooper...J.A.B. sara Etgen-Baker December 14, 2025 at 6:29 PM thanks, Justin, for such outstanding and encouraging comments. I'm grateful you appreciated the level at which I wrote this poem. Yes, I'll read your poem perhaps on Monday.