As I recall first taste of lemonade
from tall, cold glass Mom served from patio
when I swung high in cool and leafy shade
of tree where she once played long years ago,
I smile. I’m thankful for her gentle care.
The years were rolling silver dollars spent.
My mom and I both lived so unaware,
it seemed, that change could come without a hint–
one day it happened instantly in time.
How strange! I did not notice right at first–
when hands of kindness ceased their pantomime,
and shook until my world collapsed, then burst.
When bands of angels flew from Heaven’s shade,
they took the one who poured sweet lemonade.
c Copyright, 2012, Freeda Baker Nichols
Thank you for this lovely reminder of how we express and feel love through the everyday things. A glass of lemonade and so much more! Im going to take special note of all the glasses of lemonade given to me.
Thank you so much for your comment.
Reading a poem such as this reminds us to not take each day for granted, i think everyone does at times. Really makes a person think how fast time does go by.
Writing this sonnet with memories of my mother was both challenging and rewarding! The white china pitcher she used for lemonade and Kool-aid has now been handed down to a granddaughter.
This is so beautiful it blurs my vision, Freeda. The depth of feeling and the smooth rhythm are sublime.
I’m grateful for your kind and encouraging words, Catherine.
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