Monday, June 26, 2017

A Pink Macaron


A Pink Macaron

Two macarons remained in the box.
I left the lemon one for the person
who loves lemon and took the pink one
imagining it either strawberry or raspberry
it wasn't

Ah, not a berry at all.  It was Rose.
I nibbled and my grandmother materialized.

For such a small pink cookie
it was loaded with recollection

Her name, the flowers in her yard,
the funeral home,
the funeral too
painful to attend.

She was not a pink woman.
But, she was a Rose.

She gave me unconditional love
and rhubarb pies with cold milk.















 Paris 2017 #57





Sandy Kinnee

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