Grandma
Above the bed
Old photos stared down
Solemnly from the wall.
Behind the glass frame
Grandpa wore
His grey uniform
Of the Great War;
Grandma her sombre dress.
She died before I was born
And grandpa shortly after.
The only grandparent
That I knew was
My mother’s step mother.
For some reason
She did not get along well
With my parents
But I basked
In the warmth of her
Pampering indulgence.
In the manner
Of old peasant women
She dressed in long black
Garments that covered
Her delicate frame,
Hanging down
From her fragile shoulders
Like late autumn leaves.
I think I was about
Three years old
When I became very sick
With dysentery.
Grandma took me
To her house to recover.
I lost my appetite
And her remedies
Included a daily dose
Of red wine
Which she served me
In a small crystal glass.
Holding my hand in hers
Sometimes she took me
For a walk in the streets.
As we passed
The men removed
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poem by Paul Hartal
Added by Poetry Lover
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