Companion Poems

These are two companion poems, one about my Grandfather on my mom's side, and one about my Grandmother on my mom's side, one deceased (R.I.P.) and one with Alzheimer's, respectively.

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Tire Garden

Black, rubbery, and round,

the tires lying there,

soaking up the heat from the sun.

I had always wanted

to help Papa

with the

garden, but this

was the first time he agreed.

Shovel in one hand,

bag of seeds in

the other,

I watched as

his rough, worker’s

hands showed me how to dig

a hole, and then to place

the seeds inside

and cover

them.

He left, then,

left me to my business,

and went to work

on his own

job

in the

beaming sun

that was absorbing into

the tires that

would soon

spark

life.

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Silver Lemonade

Every visit, the best thing

to do with Granny was

to clean the dishes. She

would find me the little

red stool, set it there, and

give me everything I

needed to scrub dish after

dish. Forks and spoons and

plates and mugs all met

with suds and bubbles, a

rag and a sponge. One

spoon was long, the spoon

to make lemonade. I

would clean it and then ask

Granny. “can we make some

lemonade now?” She would

comply, we would finish

the dishes, and she would

          get the jug

          from where

          it resided

          daily. She

          would pour,

          I would stir,

          with the

          long spoon

          I found

          in the

          sink.