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Gillian.E. Shaw
N - The Apron
My Nanna wore an apron
for all her mornings tasks;
such a pretty shade and floral
and I have kept the last.
She washed and pressed it regularly
and placed it in a drawer
with several other aprons,
she didn't want for more.
They were always very pretty
made by her own fair hand,
with many different colors
and I'd gaze up as she'd stand.
Always standing doing something
like rolling pastry out
or frying Grandad's breakfast
cooking cakes when he was out.
She found it so important
to cover up for work...
sometimes jobs were dirty
sometimes she'd just talk.
So now I wear that apron
for my mornings tasks,
such a pretty shade and floral
I'm so glad I kept the last!
France 2003
Read poems about / on: sometimes, work
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BONJOUR GILLIAN...NICELY CRAFTED PIECE...AS PER YOUR USUAL..
NON FAUX PAS', MON AMI....C'EST DIX, POUR VOUS...AU REVOIR
''''''''''FRANCOIS...~f, j. r.`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Ah how wonderful to have such a keep-sake, this is a warm and gentle poem, I enjoyed it very much
Thankyou
Love Duncan X
What a charming poem. I enjoyed reading it. My mother, too, always wore aprons.
Now, I wish I had saved one!
It's amazing what you remember about your granny, with mine it was knitted teacosies and wonderful dumplings in thick tasty stews. So many memories. Lovely story. Sincerely Ernestine Northover. PS Thanks for you kind comments.
Thank you for sharing your lovely little reveries.
Thank you for sharing your lovely little reveries.
Nicely done, Gillian. It's the little piles of neatly-laundered and darned that can be the bittersweet discoveries after bereavement...the humble ordered life...