Remember When?
 
With supper over and chores all done,
And Grandpa in his chair,
We sat cross-legged on the floor.
There was no carpet there.
We held our breath and watched in awe,
The Firestone standing there,
Never touched by boisterous hands,
But dusted with such care.
The moment came when he turned it on,
And static filled the air,
With patient turning of the knobs,
He found a station there.
Bright colors behind numbers,
In green, yellow, red and blue,
For us was the attraction,
Not what the radio could do.
He tuned it in and a voice was heard,
We didn't make a sound,
But sat there listening, so entranced,
At the magic all around.
The highlight at the end of day,
Was Grandma mending socks,
And Grandpa turning the Firestone on,
And later, winding clocks.

© 2002 Loree (Mason) O’Neil

 

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