Grandma’s Sugar Days


I am a whirling in a yellow dress,

outstretched on whimsy breeze,

curious feet dangle in mahogany drawers, lost in big hats and shoes,

dreaming of a tall lady with red lips and a confident arse.

High notes flutter through my gold ribbed fabric,

I am singing the wise lines

and long leaping smiles.

My sun skirt flares on a world of

immense proportion,

enraptured by perfume swans, scarves

and his old wallet ,

a musty book,

a love story.

I am sweeping through Grandma’s sugar days,

heart wrapped in silk gifts, touching on yesterday,

stitch by yellow stitch.


36 thoughts on “Grandma’s Sugar Days”

  1. It’s hard slipping into grandma’s consciousness deliberately… but sometimes it happens, all the same. I read your poem stitch by stitch… and wished you happy days.


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