The Kitchen Table at Seventy

The Kitchen Table at Seventy

Marbled pink and blue, soft as spring-washed skies,
The surface of my grandmother’s table
Gleams yet after generations of use,
The center of our coffee-warmed kitchens.
An Easter photo of me in my Mom’s arms
Survives: we wear dresses in my third month.
Her body cradles me, though she sits tall,
A proud mom at her mom's kitchen table
That would become my refuge; I would hide
Under it from my tall aunts and uncles
With cameras, only to be drawn out
For hugs, photos–love gifts to memory.
Now my writing table, here spirits gather,
Shaping stories of fathers, mothers.

Author: Sandy Lee Carlson

Photo: Faizan on Unsplash

Post a Comment