|
An
apron hangs behind the door,
it's been there for quite a time.
Since Grandma went to serve the Lord,
now, her apron's silver lined.
Oh My, the meals she used to serve
with biscuits light as air .
And pancakes from the griddle,
none ever could compare.
She'd bustle round the kitchen,
And shoo the young ones away.
for fear they might get burned and such,
on the oven, she would say.
Her calico apron, was her symbol.
All starched and ironed, just so.
If it was made of wash and wear ,
she would have starched it still, I know
Grandma never could understand,
the foods that we now buy,
microwave meals ,or heat and serve,
foods she would want to cook and fry.
When God took Grandma to Heaven,
I'm sure He was aware,
she would want to cook for the Angels,
her pies must perfume Heaven's air.
An era passed. We lost a lot.
And not just cakes and pies.
We miss the "lovin' from the oven"
but most of all, from Grandma's eyes.
by
Verna Parks
Used with permission
Midi playing ~ "One
Quiet Night"
Original composition and © 1996
Marc Krisnanto
Used with permission
Photographer unknown to me
I'd happily give credit
Created exclusively
for LED
Brought to you by
Living
Each Day
© 2003-present, Adelle North, All Rights
Reserved
| |
| | | | |