My memory wanders way back when
As a young child getting to go
On long train rides to see My Grandma
I could hardly wait, I loved her so

We gathered there in masses it seemed
Sometimes coming from all around
Aunts, Uncles, Cousins and more Cousins
Grandma getting busy, Grandpa just moseying around

She always said that he was just as slow
As Molasses moving around in a mason jar
Took all day to get him moving on his feet
But could tear up concrete behind the wheel of his old car

She always looked the same to me
One long white braid pinned in a bun up high
Never had her hair cut Grandpa said
He'd bury her with her silver pride

Long drab dresses, funny shoes and bonnets
Face and hands worn but soft and no part of her thin
Old since I knew her and if her skin had been dark
She could have been Aunt Jemima's twin

Her clothes weren't pretty I guess she knew
Cause she always wore that apron
To cover them I suppose, but it came
In mighty handy when a basket it become

I'd get to go with Grandma out to the hen house
And fill that apron basket full of eggs oh what fun
Then we'd fill it up again with string beans we'd picked
Then sit and snap and chat till all was done

Grandma was so brave and strong, she would chase
A chicken round and wring it's neck, chop off its head
While I squealed in delight as it took off running
Way down the road till it dropped down dead

That chicken would taste mighty good for dinner
With our string beans, nothing goes to waste here she said
Saving the feet and I'd watch as she pulled the feathers out
She'd make more new feather pillows for every bed.

I remember how plump and soft those pillows were
When I climbed up on her bed or had a pallet nap
But nothing compared to the softness and warmth
Of My Grandma's natural pillows as I sat upon her lap.

An Angel Original
©Copyright Paula Scola 2004
All Rights Reserved

BORN 11-19-1892
DIED 7-29-1968


midi playing-Until We Meet Again