When I think of chocolate,
I’m reminded of 1937 when Grandpa
would buy me fifty cents worth of candy.
Big chunks of Hershey’s like a bag full of boulders!
Every visit Mom would tell him,
“Dad I wish you wouldn’t do that,
you can’t afford it, and it only spoils her!”
Grandpa became conveniently deaf!
I always managed to eat enough to
coat lips and teeth... run rivulets down
my arms dusty from play, and soil my clothes.
When we got back to the house,
Mom put the rest in the ice box.
Somehow chocolate, I buy myself today
doesn’t taste the same.
I guess nothing beats the taste of memory.
Alice Couch is a retired nurse’s aide who spends her days playing with her dogs, Nibby and Squeakie, while writing poetry for her three children, four grandchildren, seven great-grandchildren, and four great great-grandchildren. One of her stories published in Living with Children. She studied yoga and Buddhism and has a gift for blending the rational approach of the Western mind with the deep spiritual wisdom of the east in her poetry. She was named Noblesville’s Senior Poet Laureate in 2012.