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A sweet memory, Max - and warmly told. Thanks. Andrew On 14 September 2011 07:47, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote: > Grocer and Kitchen 1950 > > There's only a list in my basket - > after school, Mother is sending me > walking four blocks from our corner > to Mr Miles the grocer. > > This afternoon I'm his only customer - > his attention is all mine. > What's on the list? He doesn't ask > for it, waits intently while > > one at a time I name them. > His sleeves are rolled up right and high - > his apron is narrow, tied on tight. > Sugar - in a flash he turns to its shelf, > > pounces and plonks it in front of me. > Flour - the same. Tea - the same. > Mustard in its bright yellow tin - the same. > Reckitt's Blue for the wash-house, the same. > > His speed is astounding. I sense his pride. > There's nothing you can reach for yourself. > Mr Miles is the man in charge. His cash register > is tall, silver, and clangs. > > On your mother's account? Yes please. > He packs my basket, neat, firm, balanced. > Shows me to the door with a little bow. > I step out. It closes on me with a clang. > > I can walk home slowly now, shifting > the basket from arm to arm. > I got everything, Mum, what's for dinner? > What we always have on Monday. > > We mince the roast-beef leftovers, > mash the boiled potatoes, cover > the mince in the pyrex dish, > pop it into the hot oven. > > Max Richards > > > > > ------------------------------------------------------------ > This email was sent from Netspace Webmail: http://www.netspace.net.au > -- Andrew http://hispirits.blogspot.com/ 'Mother Waits for Father Late' republished available at http://www.picaropress.com/ http://www.qlrs.com/poem.asp?id=766 http://frankshome.org/AndrewBurke.html