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Grandma’s Garden
September 12, 2022
Shrub hang by my feet,
Watch your step.
Graze my hand toward vegetation,
Don’t touch that.
Look up at the tree’s heights,
Don’t climb that.
Open the shed in the corner,
Don’t open that.
Watch my step, I put shoes on.
Move my hand away, I won’t touch it.
Walk away from the tree, I won’t climb it
I won’t open the shed door.
Pretty flowers, not so pretty bugs.
Mysterious shed, stays a mystery.
Fruits hanging, not ripe yet.
Woman sits in her chair, cigarette in hand
Woman sits across, cigarette in her hand
Man sits beyond, weary of the cigarette.
Stray from the garden, remember the rules.
Sit next to the woman.
The rules are always the same,
Even when she isn’t here anymore.
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This poem is tribute to my grandma who has passed away, I combined all the rules my grandma told me as a kid in her garden into a poem.