2021-08-11T13:57:41-07:00January 15th, 2011|Musings on life|

Sweet and tart

When my grandmother lost her memory,
she clutched at her mind
like a child with a few treasures
in a rusty tin box.

But instead of shiny buttons and trading cards,
she kept alive only the taste
of a Gravenstein apple,
and her twin brother, Peter,
who died as a fighter pilot
in the war.

“Sweet and tart,
the Gravensteins,”
she used to tell me,
“oh heavens!”

“Peter loves my apple sauce,
apples from Father’s front yard,
none better.”

“They try to tell me
that Peter fell from the sky
like an apple from a tree
but he didn’t.”

“You’ll see
what a brave apple
he is.”

One could see
an old lady with dementia
but I saw
a magic show:

she was young again,
expecting her brother
any moment
for homemade apple sauce
and tea.

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