Body racked with
pain...she would rise from her bed upon hearing the car.
Tiny frame of a
women, yet a soul--so large.
Gliding from
counter to counter
Counter to table
Clearing light
saucers
"Would you
like some pickles?"
And her smile-
Spread wide across
old teeth.
Thick glasses.
A tender tear.
And so full of
love.
We were 'city
slickers;'
Company...'come'
to visit the farm...
What compelled
their overt kindness
To the likes of
me?
Seldom visiting
Spoiled
City dweller
Interestingly
enough though--
Some forty years
later
Her genuine
hospitality
Her quiet ways
Her sweet
concerned disposition
And her patient
hovering
The halting
Delivery of the
dainties
and the delicacies
that composed the
edibles
of farm life
Some forty years
later-
Her delicate nature
The rhythmic
richness of her voice
Telling small
stories
And the gentleness
of her hands
Impress me the
most.
Old fashioned name
But with a way
In my book
Never out of
fashion
Alma.
