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Gramma’s Apron Pockets Click here for
mp3 Click here for
wave
(high speed recommended)
Twisted knees like buckthorn trees, a cane to help with stairs
She bends and sighs and all the while smiles in vintage bloom
I see her stand, spoon in hand, mixing the dough, oiling the pan
I’ll never know where she got the wisdom that flowed from her apron pockets
Bright with light of a saffron moon, we’d study
the sky from my little room
We’d talk of trains, skates and kites and pirate ships that sailed at night
Of bats and birds and flying things, falling stars, rainbow rings
Airplanes, skipping rocks and the caramints she tossed a from those apron
pockets
And love would pour out her oven door, that’s
where time stood still
She always knew what to do to ease the trials the world put me through
Well the auction came, the estate went, I bought
her apron for fifty cents
I tied the band and sunk my hands …
There were sunflower seeds, shiny, glass beads, candies
wrapped in foil
A button, a clip, a sewing kit, a box of matches and on the sashes
Were pins in a row, a whistle to blow, a tiny string of bells
Nothing more than cotton cloth, the magic now was lost
Well in thirty years much is learned, my eyes have lined, my
hair has turned
And now I see or at begin to know the love my gramma could spin
And like a baby (kanga)‘roo In mama’s pouch, safe from the dangers lurking
about
I’ll hold on to the love I knew in gramma’s apron pockets
© 2003 D. Schumilas/Larkspur Music All Rights
Reserved.
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