Pictures from the mind (6)

Blue veins stood out like tracks

On Granny’s wrinkled hands

Working tirelessly

Kneading dough

How we loved the aroma

Of her baking

She would measure the ingredients

Cup full by cup full

Then before it was ready for the oven

She would take the knife

Cutting a deep cross into the loaf.

We would stand close by

Waiting for our chance to prod the loaf

Then and only then

Would we get our treat.

A big enamel mug of fresh lumpy buttermilk.

That will put hairs on your chest she would tell us

But it never did

My sister was well glad of that;

(c) Chris Black 2017.IMG_20170606_133201




7 thoughts on “Pictures from the mind (6)

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