Analysis of Butterscotch Kisses

In mid-life woe
My pen's assail,
The wide-eyed child
That was me...
With pansy-filled fingers
As my heart's only veil,
And butterscotch kisses
Now only memory:
Dear Grandma,
I will always remember
Awaiting the warmth and oregano
To smack and smother my face,
As you open your Jersey door
In the midst of old April;
Fine white linens and lace
Make like red carpet shelter,
For your table feast of Easter
And then I count again...
The plenty of pasta spoons
Lined up like silver soldiers
And placed like graves in Arlington.