If she kisses me on both cheeks before her dry lips brush my hair.
If she takes my hand and pulls me to her table and places a cup before me.
If the aroma of chicory mixes with the smell of collards and snuff.
If there’s an open Bible on her lap and a cat under her chair.
If her eyes try to smile while her hands fiddle with her apron.
GrandmamaA Poem by My Name is Brenda and I'm a WriterGrandmama© 2008 My Name is Brenda and I'm a Writer |
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1 Review Added on February 5, 2008 AuthorMy Name is Brenda and I'm a WriterFalls Church, VAAboutMy first novel was inspired by my own childhood on Pungo Creek in rural North Carolina where I grew up in a house shared by three generations. It seems it took a lifetime to write but it was actually.. more..Writing
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