On the Passing of W.T. Grant's - a poem by Florence Liberfarb...

W. T. and me…

We go back in time

Before plazas and malls,

Kiosks and food courts,

A W. T. to the tune of a live piano

Playing popular hits,

And a Saturday clock

That ticked in half time,

Where hot fudge Sundaes

Were fifteen cents,

Twenty, with nuts and

Where salesladies

In pastel hair nets

Allowed us an afternoon

To choose a ball of yarn,

Ribbons, or a new diary.

In a corner, up front,

A photo booth supplemented

Our young lives,

With smiles passed forever

In family albums.

I remember store managers,

Leaning on a counter,

Talking to pretty sales girls,

An occasional glance

Over their shoulder.

W. T. Grant’s on a Saturday

Was a first step

Away from home and school.

Safe as a library.

Safer, even,

Surrounded by a multitude of things,

All comprehensible.

Future consumers,

Not yet consumed with wanting.

Sweet day of youth and Grant’s

Seeing, touching, feeling

And taking the next bus home.

With time W. T., like all of us,

Changed and dispersed.

Became all business, less personal.

I returned many times

To the new Grant’s,

Looking for the familiar,

Never finding it.

Good-bye W. T.

Good-bye, to what used to be.

On the Passing of W. T. Grant's by Florence Liberfarb

Florence Liberfarb writes poetry, short stories and plays. You may freely republish this poem for non-commercial use provided you follow the Publisher Guidelines and provide a hyperlink (electronic media) to the Wordly Web Site. You may not alter the copyright notice or edit the content of this poem. Please notify the author of your intent to republish. Commercial use of this poem requires written permission and payment of a royalty.

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Poems, Stories, and Plays by

Florence Liberfarb