Miss Myrtle's Table
Mom and I clean
Miss Myrtle’s house.
I like cleaning the dining room best,
it’s toasty warm in winter,
cool as a peppermint stick in summer.
The smell of cinnamon buns baking floats
from the kitchen.
And three tall windows let sunshine tiptoe
across the room all morning long.
I glide the dust mop over the hardwood floor
sweeping it around and around the big
chocolate brown table that stands
in the center of the room surrounded
by twelve matching chairs.
The table is covered with lace
like a hundred tiny snowflakes
carefully stitched together.
Cradled on top—
a dozen crystal candy dishes
each filled with sweet treasures:
lemon drops, caramel creams
butterscotch, bonbons, and lollipops.
I circle the table polishing it
watching wrappers sparkle like jewels.
I look over the candies carefully
imagining the liquid of lemon,
the crunch of peanut brittle,
the creaminess of chocolate kisses.
But I don’t touch them
because I know it’s not polite—
At the end of the day
Miss Myrtle pays Mom
and offers me the pick of the table.
It’s so hard to choose.
When I finally do,
I unwrap the candy
and place it on my tongue
holding it there
allowing it to melt
all the sweetness
When I was a little girl, we lived next door to my great-aunt. She had big family dinners every Sunday, and there was always the most delicious smells coming from her oven. Her house was filled with beautiful furniture, an organ, a piano (things I'd never seen in any one's house.) The thing that amazed me the most was a huge table with beautiful candy dishes filled with every type of candy your could imagine. It looked so magical in the sunlight.
More than forty years have passed since I last saw that table, and yet I still remember the excitement of choosing any candy I wanted. Sometimes, she would give me a bag of candy to take home. I felt rich as I shared my bounty with my brother and sisters. Even the bellyache was worth it!
To enjoy more poetry fun, head on over to Language, Literacy, Love for today's Poetry Friday Roundup!