Over the Wall…

my latest poem…


Over the Wall…


‘There,’ points Grandma.

She had a tent that was a home.

She had a goat and a camel.

She had a rake and a fork and a trowel.

She had a machete and a watering can.

She had a grove and two hundred plants.

She had a child and another one and another one.


‘There,’ she insists.

I could not see

Because of the wall.

I could not hear

Because of the noise.

I could not smell

Because of the powder.


But I can always tell,

I am sure of Grandma

Who always was

And is still

And will always be.

She smells like soil.

And smiles like soil.

And blinks like soil

When touched by rain.


She has a house that is a tent

She has a key

And a memory.

She has a hope

And two hundred offspring.


Grandma is here

But lives there.

'Over there!'

Comments are closed.