Granny and the Gollywog

Granny Moran would offer a choc ice or Gollywog
to salve all wounds
She squeezed her grey nylon shop coat into the top opening
freezer and magiced the icecream for any one of her eighteen grandchildren.

In Moran's Stores and Bar, I smelled calf nuts, fingered loose biscuits and loved the social life of a country shop.
She put down her day in a frenzy of juggling and chatting.

The carved nobs of the wooden rosary beads
Swaddled around the Sacred Heart
Staring down from on high in her kitchen
Of boiling dishcloths on an Aga of contentment.

The withered "All Stars" poster
Mixed with the frothy slops from the bar
Are sellotaped into the album of my mind