Cookies in her cookie jar
Tasted better, oh, by far.
And never "bought".
Stories that my Gramma told
Were never ever stale or old
To my listening ear.
Handmade quilt and feather tic
Ice cream freezer paddle to lick
Were treats so dear.
Hours chimed by a mantle clock
Tinkling tunes from a music box
Were endless bliss.
Bible stories and evening prayers
Before I climbed the "Golden Stairs"
Blessed by her kiss
by Phyllis Beebee
GRAMMA'S SHOES
When I was very little
All the Grandmas that I knew
Were wearing the same kind
Of ugly grandma shoes..
You know the kind I mean..
Clunky heeled, black, lace-up kind, They just looked so very awful That it weighed upon my mind, For I knew, when I grew old, I'd have to wear those shoes, I'd think of that, from time to time It seemed like such bad news.
I never was a rebel, I wore saddle shoes to school, And next came ballerinas Then the sandals, pretty cool. And then came spikes with pointed toes Then platforms, very tall, As each new fashion came along I wore them, one and all.
But always, in the distance, Looming in my future, there, Was that awful pair of ugly shoes, The kind that Grandmas wear.
I eventually got married And then I became a Mom Our kids grew up and left, And when their children came along, I knew I was a Grandma And the time was drawing near When those clunky, black, old lace up shoes Was what I'd have to wear.
How would I do my gardening Or take my morning hike? I couldn't even think about How I would ride my bike!
But fashions kept evolving And one day I realized That the shape of things to come Was changing, right before my eyes.
And now, when I go shopping What I see, fills me with glee For, in my jeans and Reeboks I'm as comfy as can be. And I look at all these little girls And there, upon their feet Are clunky, black, old Grandma shoes, And I really think that's neat.
