The Poet Also Rises
Rising each day at three in the morn?
Hey, I am not a farmer planting
Just an aging grandma, blind as
Covered by her tortoiseshell cat.
Not bright as most of you here,
A reply now and then, makes her
smile and cheer.
On affection for many here she
has a long list.
But after hours too long on the iPad,
her lovely arthritic hands hurt and
But I will be back when the sun rises.
And dream tonight warm, autumnal
dreams of belly dance surprises.
October 9, 2019