Moving a grandmother? Now there’s a fright.I will say just this – there’s much out of sight.
Collections of dirt, of muck, dust, and grime, Fossilized foods of a land before time. Tom Clancy paperbacks, false sets of teeth, And fancy fountain pens from Myrtle Beach.
A Jitterbug phone hides in sad disrepair Next to Grannie Grunt’s crusty underwear. And that darned gone pair of good glasses? Here! With your VHS of The Musketeer.
Want some Frosted Wheaties a decade old? Want a thick wedge of cheese, covered in mold? Want a box of pics? Gal’s night on the town? There’s Grunt drinking highballs, Grunt in a gown.
I found old Tweety – thought he’d flown away. He’s under the dresser, moldy and gray. Next to the vent, guess that explains the smell. Of mush and mud, of baked carrots in Hell.
Couldn’t get her car to start, fine with me. Rather rats gnaw wires than her drive free. Oh poot. Couldn’t find the keys to the shed? Guess we’ll never know what’s in there that’s dead …
Grannie, it’s really time for us to go. So I’ll grab your bags, it’s on with the show. Oh my, how hard this goodbye must be. Now that I know your home’s impact on me!
… Yes, we moved Grannie Grunt to a new home, A new space to live, to love, play, and roam. We moved her for us more than her own sake. Where the carpets are clean, and the plants fake.