Thursday, May 27, 2010

A Grandmother's Kitchen


Powdered fingers and nose,

Apron tied ‘round her waist,

Busy fingers plump dough,

In her care-free haste.

Her smile smoothes her wrinkles,

Bringing a twinkle to her eye,

While the kettle sings gently,

Her hands always ply.

Cookies fresh from the oven,

Windowsill full of pies,

While the fresh morning breeze,

Cool the sweets with a sigh.

A song on her lips,

Skirts rustle around,

Bustling feet turn gaily,

Ne’er sweeter a sound.

Come remember these moments,

So warm and so dear,

Of Gran’ in the kitchen,

Comfort-sounds ever near.


~Anna Michael~

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

GREAT POEM!!!!!

SarahTheScrivener said...

Anna, I love how you always end your cozy poems with such an inviting tone. If you ever publish your poetry, I would be the first to buy them! I love you!

Ember said...

Yay, i can smell the pies and cookies!!! (Your poems are just that crisp) Okay, well maybe i smell cookies because i am eating one... but the poem was still amazing! :D Next poem you will have to write on grandpas (baby grandads!) :D
- I realize that if anyone reads this comment and doesnt know about our little baby sayings...they will think im extremely odd....