Thursday, January 26, 2012

Weight of Memory

Weight of Memory

On the shelf
of the thrift store,
amid detritus
of other lives,
a teacup,
cracked and lined,
and I am in
another time
when she was likely
as young as I
am now, and I was
hardly old enough
to climb
onto the chair alone.

We drank tea from
flowered cups.

She gave me little gloves
she kept in a drawer
of the hutch.

Lace and buttons.
Tea in flowered cups.
My knotty hand
can hardly lift it up,
it weighs that much.


  1. Though she never gave me gloves, my grandmother and I drank tea together when I was small too using her china. She trusted a clumsy child.

  2. Wonderful work, simple and emotional. She sounds like an elegant lady.

  3. Memories wait for release such as this. You have given the weight wings. Beautiful writing Karen.

  4. Bravo! Beautiful. Absolutely stunning.

  5. Such lovely memories of sharing tea as a child! We must keep this precious tradition alive for our daughters and beyond.

  6. i have arthritis, i know how that feels

    lamb's wool

  7. "Knotty hands" is very telling and poignant.

  8. perfectly precious in every way... the childlike touch of one's grandmother makes one sigh.... ** sigh**

  9. you speak memories so very well
    it almost seemed like a silent telling, as if you told it with your eyes. quite lovely