The Sundays, She Gave Us

Before I ever drew a breath,
before my name was softly spoken,
you were already walking through this world
with steady shoes and tired hands,
captured here in black and white
beneath a summer sky long faded.

A handbag swinging at your side,
your shadow stretched upon the ground,
while streets and faces blurred behind you
like time already slipping away.
You could never have imagined then
a grandson still thinking of you
more than sixty years later.

I knew you not as this young woman,
but as Granma in the kitchen light,
pinny dusted white with flour,
windows steamed on Sunday mornings,
the scent of roasting meat and gravy
curling warm through every room.

I can still hear the clatter of tins,
the opening of the oven door,
and see those Yorkshire puddings rising
like proud golden crowns beside the beef.
You taught me simple things that lasted:
how good food gathers people close,
how love is hidden in small rituals,
served quietly without a fuss.

And then came the best surprise of all —
Yorkshire puddings spread with jam,
a child’s delight after Sunday dinner,
sweetness where others saw leftovers.
It felt like sharing a secret with you,
one the world had somehow overlooked.

Even now, six decades on,
I still taste those Sundays sometimes.
One bite, and I am eight again,
legs swinging beneath the kitchen chair,
watching the woman in this photograph
move gently between stove and table,
never knowing she was building memories
strong enough to outlive time itself.

You passed many years ago now,
yet somehow remain close beside us —
in old photographs,
in warm kitchens,
and in every Yorkshire pudding
spread thick with jam.

Paul Baldry

This project became far more than restoring an old photograph. Using AI, I enhanced and reimagined a treasured image of my Granma Harris, bringing new life to memories, probably before I was born. The poem grew from the warmth of my childhood weekend visits — the smell of Sunday dinners, fresh baking, and Yorkshire puddings rising in the oven. Most of all, it celebrates the love found in Gran’s kitchen, and the simple tradition of Yorkshire puddings with jam, a taste I still cherish over sixty years later.