LEMON SHERBET
My Dad’s boots were big and heavy,
Black bright with coal dust,
Clogged up on the leather laces,
Solid in the cleats of the soles
He walked on.
‘Threepence,’ he said, ‘to anyone
Who will clean them.’
There were no takers.
Until I got to thinking
About a crinkly paper bag
Full of lemon sherbets,
Fizzing on my tongue.
©2020 Gwen Grant
Poems by Gwen Grant 
The calculus of childhood!
Lovely poem Gwen. Thank-you.
I remember the sherbet lemons I bought from the sweetshop wrapped in a triangular paper screw.
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Must be a special treat!
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So glad you liked the poem. We always had to tot up one thing against another! Sherbet lemons seem to have
been very popular!
Gwen.
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Any sweet was worth an effort, they were so rarely available! Glad you liked the poem.
Gwen.
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Sherbet lemons – the perfect example of the bitter-sweet contradictions of life.
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