Friday, July 27, 2012

The retiree


He was three when he learned
and filed the knowledge forever
that the retired couple next door
loved children, especially those
who lived in the duplex next door
and so would always have a square
of Kraft’s fudge, sometimes
chocolate, sometimes vanilla
(his favorite), wrapped
in clear cellophane. All
the boy had to do was knock
on the back screen door and
the man would open it
with a smile and offer the square
of Kraft fudge, and the old man
and the little boy would sit
on the concrete steps, eating
their squares of Kraft fudge
together.

This is another in a series of poems about growing up in the South, suggested by my friend Nancy Rosback.

4 comments:

JofIndia said...

Your memories create such a beautiful image, Glynn. An image of innocence.

They also highlight how much our world has changed. Nowadays, allowing any three year-old to wander off to the neighbours and sit unsupervised with an elderly gentleman would be regarded as something akin to abuse.

We live in saddened times..

Martha J. M. Orlando said...

What a sweet image this is, Glynn. Blessings!

nance said...

this was simply wonderful
so much so that i could feel myself
sitting on the steps of concrete
being the boy
being the man
and it makes me cry
and it makes me smile
for so many different reasons.

S. Etole said...

I had a difficult time moving beyond the image of the fudge, but your words are always worth it.