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.