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Poetry
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Source:
Adults
Author:
Rhona Aitken
Title:
Grimshaws
I remember the wonders of our Grocers shop.
A proud Lancashire cheese
sitting upon the marble counter
with its fearsome wire
stretched between two wooden toggles,
ready to do battle for asking ladies.
Mr. Grimshaw had the art of immaculate deduction,
each order cut to perfection - no adjustment.
Even the aromatic ham on its nine inch plinth,
sliced by hand onto waxy paper,
was perfect - to the quarter ounce.
However, as a child I completely missed
the skills of Mr. Grimshaw. My attention riveted
To the tonsorial invincibility of several
ginger strands spreading exiguously
from one ear, across a pink expanse,
to the other. A long, long way.
As he bent over his tasks I would count
these strands - there were usually seven.
Mrs. Grimshaw sat unctuously beside the till,
its patterned brass housing formidable buttons
labelled tuppence ha’penny, one shilling and sixpence -
up to a pound. Mrs. Grimshaw pressed
a suitable button - whereupon a drawer burst open -
with alarming speed - in went the money,
bang went the drawer again - a bell rang,
Mrs. Grimshaw, showing certain satisfaction,
leant back to await the next onslaught.
Oh! I remember Grimshaws -
but for all the wrong reasons.
Published on writebuzz®:
Adults
> Poetry
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