senility

(from my Cinderella poems)

senility

when she was old
she told her grandchildren
of mice become horses,
the pumpkin carriage,
the flight
of stairs at midnight.

"yes nana,"
they dutifully chorused,
minds elsewhere,

as she repeated
the only memory
she had left.

damn, i hate senility. I can so relate to this. My great grandmother was a lot like that when she was in the nursing home. (We called her Nana too)

Norm -
Thanks. Glad you liked it.

Callooh -
I don't know, doesn't seem to bad a memory to be left with... (she could be left with cleaning chimneys and such)

Norm -
You're right on that score.

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Monkeys: There are no monkeys here. If you're looking for monkeys, go away. Well, actually there are monkeys, but they're of the hairless variety that writes poetry and such. If that's not what you're looking for move along.