Sunday Supper
Me and Grandpa eat Salisbury steak,
the neighboring mounds of
mashed potatoes
hold gravy in their
cratered tops.
We eat off TV trays in front of
The Wonderful World of Disney.
Grandma brings apple slices
baked with cinnamon and
brown sugar.
They rest in cream.
Afterwards, I wipe my chin
with my hand.
Grandpa tucks snoose
in his cheek
and Tinkerbell’s wand
dances.
4 thoughts on "Sunday Supper"
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You wonderfully capture that moment in time now lost except in our memories.
So beautiful and intimate- I can see the whole scene as if I’m there.
Love this sweet innocent poem Nancy. It’s lovely that you can remember your Grand Daddy with such favor. I only remember such moments with my female family members, this poem is reassuring THANK YOU so much!
I love the way the visual images trigger the sense of taste and I feel right there with you eating “mounds of
mashed potatoes” …that….” hold gravy in their
cratered tops.”…..You make such memories epic images.
along with the “apple slices” too………..And a perfect ending with Tinkerbell’s wand—also an epic memory. I love your orchestration of this poem! Thank you so much!