Poem - Living With Grandma

dictating the small bird and all of its mockings
walking through the woods in her brown striped stockings
picking up wild onions to bring to the clubhouse
to pretend that its bedding and that she is a mouse
eating dry cereal from a Blue Willow bowl
and making her shoes talk through a rip in the sole
riding her bike without leaving the driveway
running through the sprinkler thinking of running away
combing tangles out of that hair, so long; it took so long
crying when the brush rips out chunks, and felt wrong
swinging high on the swings at school
and climbing trees, because she thought it was cool
imaginary dreams and imaginary things
not being allowed to pick up the phone when it rings
watermelon and cantaloup on hot summer days
then walks in the rain with a big pink umbrella befor the foggy haze
playing with rollie-polies and planting beans in the garden
getting caterpillars and watching thier cacoons harden
picking peaches from the backyard tree, but never ate them
the across-the-street neighbors were mean, but she couldnt hate them
not a single friend in the whole neighborhood
just a sister and a navy sweater with a hood
but still, back then, all was good