Thursday, February 15, 2018

Grandmothers Are Happy.

Grandmothers Are Happy

The drunken shadow was on the wall of
Forgetfulness.  My mother forgets me
Every single day.  She walks up and down the
Stairs, while whistling a tune, sometimes
I can make out what she is singing,
Other times, I can’t.  Her mind used to be
Sharp as a whip, but now it is gentle as a cow,
And I am getting used to telling her how
Things used to be, and where things are.
There is a difference in the times, now.
She used to whistle up a storm.

The storm has grown dim.  Everything is dim
As a cow’s butt.  I wish my mother was how
She used to be, so playful and loving, but
The disease took her away.  It is a disease
Of the mind.  She doesn’t dream of anything
Anymore, she just sits and whistles and
Laughs herself silly.  I never know what she is
Laughing about anymore.  It is like a joke
I don’t know anything about.  She was married
Once.  Her ex husband left her the children
And the old rocking horse.  She loves the
Rocking horse more than she loves her children,
And she says, one day, she is going to put
Her grandchildren on the back of that rocking
Horse and whistle her heart out.  That is what
Should happen.  Grandmothers should be

Happy.

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