The shaking hands that set the plate
Of ice cream and jelly that vibrate
With an old woman’s smile under curled hair
I remember the jelly, wobbling there.
Some old yarn with my mother, recalled
I sat there, watching, silent, enthralled,
“But yer always scoulding” it was said –
Someone’s catchphrase they quoted, is still in my head.
I probably misremember, but fondly do,
Among the other memories too
Her daughter in time her place took
As the little old lady whose hands shook,
Setting on a table a cup of tea
As grandmother did, jelly and ice cream for me.