The German Army, Russia, 1943 : AI
That white
tablecloth, set with a plate,
Reminding me of pan fried chicken, laughter.
We never went hungry in those days,
It was before Pop lost his job at the factory.
Sweet tea sweeter than hummingbird nectar
Filled the glasses handed down to my mother,
eventually to be handed down to me.
Years turned that white tablecloth yellow,
I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away.
Not after all the meals we shared on that battered fabric.
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