Laurel Crown Awards

laurel

The Soul Food Cafe proudly presents Laurel Crown awards to Pythian Games participants who have gained inspiration working in-house

Jenny Aarts

Edwina Peterson Cross

Lois Daley

Elizabeth Hayes

Vi Jones

Pauline Susan Nolan

Francis Arnett Sbrocchi

Teresa Seed

 

 

 

 

Vi Jones

Memory

I lie upon a grassy knoll,
the sun cleansing,
healing in its warm embrace.
Mind wandering to times so long ago
and to my homeland far away.

I remember fields of green,
narrow country roads,
ancient valleys.
Picture postcard villages.
Boar’s Head, a pub.
An old stone church with steeple high.
Bells on Sunday morning.

Rugged hills,
ferns,
wild flowers,
robins on the wing,
blackbirds too,
and finches.
Sheep with woolly coats and tails.
Small woodlands, good for shade
or shelter from the rain.

Games I played in fabled woods.
Times beside the pond when
, I stared into its murky depth,
for what,
slithery, slimy creatures,
dragons of my childhood.

I picked fat and juicy berries,
eating more’n my basket held.
Nutting along narrow, country lanes.
Finding plate size mushrooms
in the dew dampened dawn.
In our garden, currents grew,
red and black.
Rhubarb, apples, swedes, and carrots,
parsnips, peas, and beans, and onions by the score.

The house, rough stone and gray
kept us warm both night and day.
Fireplace with flickering flame,
welcome comfort in cold and rain.
My tiny room,
birthplace of dreams,
adventures too.

What happened to those dreams of yore,
where did they go?
Are they floating still on fluffy clouds,
sky borne creatures
that I alone can see?
Or are they buried still
deep in the mind of the child in me?

I lie upon my bed this night
with moonlight through the window
reaching deep into my soul.
It takes me back once more
To my homeland faraway.

I think about my mother and my father,
both gone, my sister too,
her life cut short at seven.
I wish so much to speak
the words I could not utter then,
words not spoken in our home.
Is it so hard to say, I love you?
Such simple, basic words,
but ones we need express the most,
but the hardest ones of all to say.

I wish I could return
to that land so faraway
and to the dreams I left there.
I wish I had a second chance
to say what needed to be said.
Too late except to whisper to my pillow
and shed a tear or two.
Grab a moonbeam, child inside,
grab a moonbeam and take me there,
to that land so faraway.

 


House of the Muse
Soul Food Cafe

Laurel Crowns