Granny's Cookin' Poem by Whitney Nicole Albright*

You could hear granny's feet
Tapping against the floor
Every Sunday morning
Before you came through the door

Granny would cook cornbread
Potatoes that'd melt in your mouth
Peas, fried chicken, and okra
A lunch from the south

The whole family sat at the table
Sometimes all afternoon
Saying blessings in the circle
Beside napkins, forks, and spoons

I haven't sat there in eight years
Seems longer when I start looking
But this morning my stomach churned
For some of granny's cooking

I remembered how a busted stomach
On Sunday evenings would feel
But I smiled as I got out of bed
Grateful for every meal

I know at this very moment
Granny's at God's table, see
He wanted her in heaven
To fix him her sweet tea