Tea with Mrs. Keeling

Jerry Reynolds

In the summer of forty-nine

She taught him to pluck pears.

In a yard, honeysuckle-covered

There were two large trees.
Her house had burned down years before.

A lonely, well-preserved lady

Living out her years—above a store,

Her late husband’s name it bore.

Plucking her pears as tutored.

She served them tea in fine china.

Proudly picking the best pieces suited.

Though nothing matched anymore.
They sat in her sun-drenched kitchen

Sipping tea and eating squares

Of perfectly ripened pears.

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Comments +

Comments6

  • Friendship

    Nicely written.

    • Jerry Reynolds

      Thanks for the read. I appreciate it.

    • sorenbarrett

      Sad and joyful at the same time this poem gives an open aired view of life at its best and worst.

      • Jerry Reynolds

        Thanks for the read and the understanding review.

        • sorenbarrett

          You are most welcome Jerry

        • orchidee

          Good write J.

        • Tristan Robert Lange

          Jerry, there’s a beautiful sense of memory preserved here…the honeysuckle yard, the pears carefully picked, the quiet tea shared in a sunlit kitchen. Even the mismatched china speaks softly of years lived and loss endured. By the end, that simple moment of eating ripe pears together feels deeply human and lasting. Wonderful write, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦‍⬛

        • Goldfinch60

          Wonderful words Jerry.

          Andy

        • Doggerel Dave

          You've done Mrs Keeling proud Jerry, with a preamble which set the scene, and a richly detailed account of a feast in her kitchen.
          Enjoyed the feel.

          • Jerry Reynolds

            Thanks for the read, Dave, and the interpretation.



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