Poem for a friend…

The prompt:

Answer this – I am from…

I Am From Blue Eyes

I am from old women with whiskers

and cats drinking from bowls,

bow-legged men in red johnnies

with the flaps open in back,

just a crack.

I am from whiskey and scotch poured in ice-filled mugs

and cook stoves and kindling and kerosene lamps

and braided rugs laid down in the middle of rooms

and rocking chairs.

I am from stew and potatoes and cabbage

turnips and carrots and bread rising on stoves

and sharp knives and pistols and open windows

in winter.

I am from an old photograph that hangs

on the wall. Of Grandma because I

have her blue eyes.

Her blue eyes.

Julie Eger – Jan. 27, 2011

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