Banana Poem by Too Many Words

I chop a banana and let the
Pieces fall into a sky-blue bowl
As I breathe in the scent of the
Sweet yellow fruit and remember
Mornings in Gran's kitchen when
I was younger and my feet could not
Reach the cool, creaky linolium floor
From my seat on the old, spinning
Bar stool that never was quite comfortable.
I remember the sharp, bell-like laughter
Of my sister and the stuttering snicker
Of my cousin as we joked and played
In Gran's kitchen while she watched
With a smile and Papaw cooked
A breakfast of eggs and warm, buttery
Toast that was always a little burnt
Because he liked it that way, but I did too.
Gran cuts a bright yellow banana into
Little circles that fall with a small clatter
Onto a paper plate and I remember
The feel of a child's blue plastic fork
In my hand, but here I am now
In the early-morning kitchen of
Another house as I cut a banana
And remember.