Our mothers' memories

You can clearly see it's meant to be
a journey back in time;
the decor accumulated purposely
to take us back to those post-war years
when our moms were young, and wild,
and hadn't a care in the world
except who might ask them to the dance
and what to wear,
and would he have a bitchin' car.
And now, another generation's passed
and this place we used to take our kids
when they were small and Saturdays were a chance
to come to the diner for a root beer float,
is still the same, though they, too are now
long past that stage of dances, and bitchin' cars:
they're on to unemployment,
and health insurance,
and all those grownup trials
they've just begun to face,
while we sit here on a Saturday
nursing a root beer and basking in our mothers' memories.


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