Post by gmspencer on Jan 7, 2010 22:55:40 GMT -5
In this old white starched Church
My grandmother washed the feet
of sacramental women in 1944.
She wore her black dress high
To cover her neck,
Polished black shoes,
Always a broach at her throat.
She never cut her hair,
Rolled up big as a sunflower.
She never came without a bible,
A white tablecloth, a little food,
Sweet tea and the latest news on a brother.
Who was fighting in the Philippians?
This old church, looking like a birdhouse
swept clean, would house his homing,
all spotless and washed up for the very last time.
My grandmother washed the feet
of sacramental women in 1944.
She wore her black dress high
To cover her neck,
Polished black shoes,
Always a broach at her throat.
She never cut her hair,
Rolled up big as a sunflower.
She never came without a bible,
A white tablecloth, a little food,
Sweet tea and the latest news on a brother.
Who was fighting in the Philippians?
This old church, looking like a birdhouse
swept clean, would house his homing,
all spotless and washed up for the very last time.