Those huge white flakes of fish

And the mashed potato dish

Have stayed in my memory

For sixty years

 

I remember the potato, creamy soft

Had a seasoned, peppery waft

And the choice of sauces:

Egg or parsley

 

It must have been a whole side of cod

I remember my grandfather like a god

Slowly stood to serve the fish

Separating the flakes

 

The etched glass tumbler for each diner               

Beside fish knives, forks and china

Set on the starched white cloth

Pressing on my knees

 

And I can see the dining room backdrop:

The many pewter jugs and plates atop

The tall carved oak dresser.

And the seated family.