Flash Back By Mai Venn Poem by Mai Murphy Venn

My writing hand is busy as it guides the pen to move
Memories inspiring are clicking with the rhythm of the grove
Yesterday is over, farewell, tomorrow has yet to a occur
So I will keep on track before my brainpower go quite blur

My first memories linger on, of my grandfather, egg, toast, and tea.
No man-made egg, toast and tea-like him, it was lovely, believe me
Our big open fire was where he cooks the food that we would eat
The amber glow from that old fire gave out a warm homely heat

I was but two or three or more and he was crippled from a stroke.
My grandmother and he were my only parents, they were decent folk.
Every Sunday he would send us to the local cinema to get us gone,
Because he wanted to listen to the radio for the Sunday matches was on.

When we came home, he was ready with our grand old Sunday tea.
The fire would be burning high and two hobs at each side full.
Boils eggs and crispy country butter toast on plates just melting there for me
A well do I remember, my old grandfather special Sunday tea.