This Poem was Submitted By: Ellen K Lewis On Date: 2006-07-26 01:15:30 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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This Old Table Has Roots

As I sit here with you , I'm drinking coffee and you're sipping juice "will you never stop talking and give me one chance?" I was about to tell you that when I was young your grandma and I would sit here at this table and I would sip my juice while she drank her coffee and then she would ask me will you never stop talking?" I think that someday, you will sit here drinking coffee, and your daughter sipping juice, and she 'll be chattering on and on and on and you will smile and say, "hey, will you  never stop talking ? give me a chance?  I want to tell you something...that  when I was young.....

Copyright © July 2006 Ellen K Lewis

Additional Notes:
When you're 8 and 1/2 (counting by the days) there are lots of things to tell your grandma about. And sitting at that same table-after all these years-well that's a treat! Hope it made you smile.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mary J Coffman On Date: 2006-08-06 10:38:02
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Ellen, this is wonderful! So often I have found myself echoing my mother, and her echoing her mother, and on and on. I often tell my daughter "watch, one day you'll besaying the same things to your daughter" and then I laugh. So funny how we are "repeated" through life, eh? You have captured this so very well here. I couldn't help but chuckle over the irony here. I'll probably go on giggling about this all day. My goodness, see what you've started?! *big smiles here* I adore this, Ellen! This one made my day, my friend! Well done. Brava, and thanks for sharing the grins. Warmest, Mary

This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2006-07-31 22:14:53
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Ellen, This absolutely delightful, you could include this as one of your pieces for the "children's radio show", it carries a message, well so many messages. Well penned, short, amusing; a red rose for you lady. Best always, Lora
This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2006-07-30 20:16:44
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.82353
Ellen--The poignant recounting of this simple pastime belies the import of its history, longevity and significance. Scribe's vivid imagery can never completely depict what those moments may have done for the bonding, teaching, self-esteem/confidence and nurturing of speaker. Thanks for reminding us "grandkids" of all-but-forgotten endearing/under-rated gather- ings/chats. These are definitely the "keepsakes" that are cherished and must be passed on. Hope I didn't mistate your intentions. TLW
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2006-07-30 19:12:59
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Ellen, Quite nice. Easy flow, easy go.... It left me wishing for close family lines that continue on... Starting with grandma. And then you become one and then they pass it on. To pass on the stories of the past. Keeping the memory alive of those departed. History being made. Love all the different levels of this! Nice job, red checkard oil cloth? Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2006-07-29 19:17:13
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.87097
Hi Ellen....this is just priceless. It reminds me when my daughter was about three or four and she loved to sit on her grandmother's lap while we drank coffee and talked on and on. Sherri (my daughter) later told me that she loved to hear her grandma swallow the coffee and the aroma of the coffee. This was my husband's mother and when she passed away it took a great toll on both Sherri and I. So yes, this poem did make me smile and brought back some wonderful memories that I will always hold dear. Sometimes the memories we have about the small things in our lives are the largest of all. thanks for posting this....I love it! Blessings....Marilyn
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2006-07-28 01:17:02
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.57143
Great fun here. Yes all so true...why when I was young....gee I forget. When was that? Was that when I was ten and you were...hell I don't know . . . it was so long ago!
This Poem was Critiqued By: Terrans Glen Vining On Date: 2006-07-27 08:42:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Some people never shut up, or really think about what they are saying. They just talk to talk. And it is especially irritating in the early morning. I like the poet's crisp, natural language.
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