Dark house
Lights lit off
Incandescence of impure thought
Deep within
In the back
A kettle burns with this and that
Beakers, vials and recipes unbeknownst
Scat plays while ingredients turn
Knock on the wooden door
Some children from apartments near
A few words exchange
Then smiles as packages trade
A nod and a smile
They depart
As she counts the value in her hands
Stirs the pot one more time
Has a seat near the fire
Pictures line the wall to the right
Relapsing back and forth all night
First the day she met her husband
Then the birth of her first and oldest
Little scrapes and tiny bruises
Oh how what a nightingale she had been
Always looking out for each of them
Then the children moved a far
Now she skypes to see how things are
Watch those babies grow up tall
The way they look at her
Fills her like nothing can
Today the youngest of the clan
Asked her what she do
Paused for a moment upon her stool
Finally coming out with what she does
“ Well, I’m just here to give you and your kin lots of love”
The smile lit upon that child’s face
She knew that look would be engrained
Forever never able to replace
She feels bad about the white lie
She tires of the secret
But how would she have said it,
“Your gram mommas a pusher”
Nah, some things best left for when you’re dead
haha that was an enjoyable read, with loads of fun rhyme and I couldn't help but laugh at the last line.
ReplyDeletegram mommas a pusher...lol...nice write...
ReplyDeletePat, Brian- Yeah just wrote this one for fun, idea popped in my head, my mother was talking to the baby over the phone and the way she annunciated grandmother got me thinking about the relation between gram and drugs, just kinda played with it from there. Glad you both enjoyed it, thanks again
ReplyDelete