her marbled legs blended well
with the faded ink upon her arms
the cigarette wobbled all the while
she often cackled about her youth
but her eyes betrayed her humor
for sincere regrets and shattered hope
she often slurred too much
to talk about abandoned dreams
so I would listen to her fairy-tales
wondering how much she believed
eventually she’d forget I was there
become lost in mummbles to herself
I tried to smile, but it was hard
Inevitably, I’d excuse myself…
she kept on talking, smoking, drinking
until, at last, she passed away
gone, to wherever a godless woman goes
I missed her then, that old lady… grandma