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POETRY | MEMORIES | CHILDHOOD
She Wore Yellow
Her Hair Was Sunset Red
Nan’s best yellow roses
had blush, peach frills.
outlining, and subtly
highlighting fine edges.
The delicate scent of
the sun warmed petals.
We picked and brewed
into childish potions.
Perfumes left in jars,
behind grandads shed.
Nan calling us for teatime
At the back door smiling
drying wet, soapy hands
on that yellow apron.
Sandwiches and pink wafers
with lowcocks lemonade.
At Christmas, port and lemon
cake with crumbly cheese.
But don’t eat the silver balls!
mince pies with white icing.
Eating Nans Sunday dinners,
while I smelt of warm horses.
Fresh from my ride, thirsty.
We’d go back home then
with bags filled to the brim.
Grandad’s tomatoes and onions
bags of dried fruit and nuts.
Nan’s spiced Fairy cakes.
Lots of bottles of fizzy pop
we bring the empties back.
