Apprenticed

Apprenticed

I tend my garden with memories—
 
Gramma, soft, shuffling, 
shawled against early air,
 
muttering disapproval, 
scolding her reluctant roses.
 
Later, she mimics a 
nodding sentry from
her post,
 
teeth foundering 
in a stale glass of water,
 
and mutters,
 
“Where is that worthless boy?”

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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