Photo by Pixabay on

I tend my garden 
with memories—

Gramma, soft, shuffling, 
shawled against early air,
grumbling disapproval,
scolds her reluctant roses.

Later, mimicking a 
nodding sentry from

her rocking chair post 
upon the porch,

teeth foundering 
in a stale glass of water,


“Where is that worthless boy?”

. . . j
from the Childhood Remedy and Other Such collection