.
Granny sits in the chair closest to the door.
She is more than ready to go home.
Overwhelmed by kids running wild,
missing her quiet cuddly cats,
their warmth on her lap,
their sweet purring.
Even Sonny,
the one who growls like a panther,
the one who yowls loud enough to wake the neighbors,
and bangs on the door when locked out,
would get lost in this ruckus.
Granny is visiting at her daughter's house
to celebrate her seventieth,
the big seven oh.
She should have stayed home,
had ice cream with the cats
listening to mellow Beatles music
The other daughter arrived
with more grandchildren.
Some other kids are here, too.
Their friends?
running around being kids, all noisy and wild.
having fun.
Granny wishes she could jump around
and have rough and tumble fun
...and scream
The others are able to ignore
most of it.
90 decibels maybe.
high piercing pitch
sudden like an ice pick
thrust through a block of ice
What will she do with the presents?
Where will they fit in her luggage?
The knick knacks and doo dads,
the shawl and afghan,
the bubble bath,
the low necked blouse and too tight pants.
They must have forgot
Granny needs nothing
she has too much of everything
just give her love.
It's enough.
Really
and maybe
some tranquility.
Granny decides to hide,
sneaks into the computer room
wishing she could email herself
as an attachment.
She is counting down the days
until she sees
Sonny and Cher again.
Elizabeth Munroz
January 2010
Love that photo of you, as well as the poem.
ReplyDeleteThank you! That was taken when Keli was still with me. The poem is based a bit on fact.
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