Grandma

Ha, I could say Warm cookies Sweaters knitted with love Turtle dove And laced up gloves But that would be a lie All of the above Is a mask To hide what is really boiling in the flask As a child I adored you Got down on the floor for you Sit down on the shore with you Shop at the wondrous stores with you But then one day It hit me Like some cliché You are deceitful And most defiantly not full Of compassion You are selfish With a heart dark and ashen All alone you are Pushed every one afar Most that know you Will admit that it is hard to like you Avoid eye contact as they bike past you Make stereotypical conversation About the weather with you I cannot say that I do not love you For you are my blood No matter how much I shove We will always be tied together Like fibers of a rubber glove I’ll put up with your gray barley stew And turn a blind eye to your hypocritical taboo As for much more Let us keep the score Quite even Let not things get deep But allow the depths of you shallowness Exceed us all