GRANDMA’S CANDY JAR
Here sits my mom’s candy jar~
All glass~
With a rounded dome at the top~
Here lies my memory of my own~
Grandma’s Candy Jar~
From when I was a small child~
No more than four at most.
Both similar in see thru appearance~
Both waiting for a grandchild’s~
Wide eye astonishment…
My mom’s jar filled now with~
White striped red and green peppermints~
Wrapped in clear cellophane~
Only a quarter the way filled~
From hands already having~
Scoffed off the top pieces clean.
I remember my Grandma’s~
Container differently~
As I enter grandma’s home~
Always smelling of fresh baked bread ~
The best of breads that never were~
Ever made again.
I remember wandering into a living room~
Seeing doilies every where~
Some on the backs and arms of chairs~
Than there was not an end table~
They left bare…
One particular end table~
Fancied my eye~
Sitting in front of the window’s
Lace sunny sky~
What made my eyes glimmer was not~
The table itself~
But a shinny glass jar~
Upon its shelf~
This jar stood out like~
None could compare~
This buffed carafe held gems to~
My sight fair~
On tip toes~
My little nose pointed~
Up high~
To see the colors of~
The candy inside~
I would stare and stare~
Till my mouth watered~
Almost counting the~
Round charms inside~
Wishing they were offered.
I recall which kind~
They always were~
I can see them now~
Like a child I stood~
There were only two colors~
Yet what a combination they made~
Pink and white pretty as the~
Lace that sat beneath laid.
I could almost smell with~
My button nose~
The fragrance of mint from~
That beautiful jar~
I stared at it hard~
As if pleading for it~
To open automatically~
Where it sat.
I willed it to empty its contents~
To my yearning mouth~
I imagined the pleasure that~
Would be divine with out a doubt.
Without my concentration broke~
Someone noticed where I was about~
My mom would say “now don’t you touch”~
As a begging gesture came from~
My pleading eyes and opened mouth.
Moms words were firm~
“Teaching I suppose”~
When she said “only~
Grandma knows”.
Which gave me the cue~
To ask Grandma~
“Pretty please?”
Grandma was kind~
She hurried right over~
In her freshly white polished shoes~
She took off the lid and held the jar for me~
I grabbed as much as my little hand could fetch~
As a few fell back into the jar probably for the best~
Than next I was prompted by mom~
Giving me the look~
So I said “thank you”
Before I steeled away~
To some private nook.
In the corner aside of the couch~
I emptied my stash on a special stool~
That sat a few inches high “just right”
For a lad or a lass to eat a prize.
My grasp opened and out fell my presents~
Tumbling~
Some stopping just before the edge~
As my beady eyes~
And tiny hands stopped them to rest.
The fragrance became stronger~
Of peppermint and spearmint~
It was an excited delight~
As I took the first bite.
Here sits my mom’s candy jar~
All glass~
With a rounded dome at the top~
Here lies my memory of my own~
Grandma’s Candy Jar~
From when I was a small child~
No more than four at most.
By
Lisa J. Warner
AKA
Lisa Luv
CopyRight10/13 /2010@LisaLuvLLC
AllRightsReservedByLisaJ.Warner