memories (Remove filter)
Jam Sandwiches
Her slippers shuffle along
The carpet, with swirls of faded bronze.
Wrinkled hands worn by casino youth, waltz
Through the smell of hot leather,
Balancing china cups and saucers.
With eyes that sing the marble green
Of the Empress staircase, her face is the ghost
Of a lost love.
And I, with tiny toes that cannot yet tap
On the ballroom floor below,
Eat jam sandwiches
On my Grandmot...
Tuesday 3rd October 2017 2:21 pm
Recent Comments
Trevor Alexander on Favorite Poet
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Just Smile!
5 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Just Smile!
6 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Start Monday
8 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on When Tyrants Fall
8 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The 'Perfect Son'
8 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on BLUE PLAQUE FOR YOUR MP
8 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on BLUE PLAQUE FOR YOUR MP
8 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on The Poem Of Life
10 hours ago
Martin Elder on Call me soon
11 hours ago