| Grandma's House
 Oh the dear memories at Grandma’s we’d make,
To her coffee, her bacon and eggs we’d awake.
We’d listen to laughter and hear all the talk,
Slurp up our oatmeal, and then out for a walk.
Who wants to walk, when you can ride,
On the back of ole Silver, with her motherly stride.
But then came wild Flicka, naughty, not nice,
Stay away from her, would be our advice.
Who could forget when the bull charged the fence,
Mad at our teasing; oh boy we were dense!
Or the powder puff ritual after a bath,
A fragrant memory of our bedtime path.
At Grandma’s a smile was never a fake
And we would anticipate her black oil cake
With Pinochle on hold we’d gather to snack
What fond family memories as we all look back.
|
|
Each year we grew and awaited that day
The wall of height she’d mark and say
You’ve grown an inch in this past year
My, my how fast you’ve grown my dear
Her soft blue eyes and sweet grandma smile,
Don’t let it kid you for even awhile.
She could dole out justice like any school marm,
Like the time she bit us right on the arm!
“You bite each other, I’ll bite you back!”
Making quick end to our sibling attack.
What do you mean, you can’t multiply nine
Just a flip of a finger, you’ll do just fine
You say your bored, I’ll show you board
She grabbed the ruler and struck a chord.
Come on Grandma; show us your vertical leap
And those two inches is a memory we’ll keep
A glorious old oak tree whose roots run deep
Her love for her family, our heritage to keep.
More About Frances Robinson |
