Mother's Apron; a poem by Joyce Johnson
Mother wore an ample apron to cover her clean dress. She'd tell you that's what it was for if you asked her, I would guess. But that apron had more uses than I could even count. It brought in eggs and vegetables and could hold a large amount. I've seen her use that apron to wipe her dripping brow as she labored over the big range that's just an antique now. Her apron could bring giggles in a game of peek-a-boo with her newest, sweet grandbaby as she hid her face from view. When we kids were hurt or crying we'd run to find her lap. She'd wipe the falling tears away with a bit of apron flap. That apron dusted tables and shooed away the flies. It did just fine as oven mitts to take out bubbling pies. But the greatest of the treasures that old apron could hold, was the endless love from Mother abiding in each fold. by Joyce Johnson, 2010 This is my favourite poem at the moment. It captures the warmth of motherhood and homemaking so well. This poet has written...