In the summer of forty-eight
Mrs. Keeling taught him how to pluck pears.
In her, honey-suckle covered yard
There were two large old trees.
The Keeling house had burned down years before.
She was a gracious, lonely southern, lady
Living in an apartment above a drug store,
That bore her name.
He plucked her pears as instructed.
She served them tea in her best china.
Nothing matched anymore, but
Humbly, did the best she could.
They sat in her, sun-drenched, kitchen
Sipped tea and shared perfectly ripened pears,
a divine day for white trash royalty.
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Author:
Jerry Reynolds (
Offline) - Published: December 4th, 2020 15:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
Offline)
Comments2
Thanks, Robert if you like nostalgia and have some time to read
Haibun Odyssey at
http://www.artandadvertising.com/web-graphics/
A young person might wonder how we all managed to grow up with chipped and broken crockery and non matching cutlery.
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