Grandma At the Track
GRANDMA AT THE TRACK
foolishly
i threw the rock
and appeared
to hopscotch
until the ill of my ankle
violently mocked
i chalk it all up
to forget me nots
my mind over knees
ignores
the rusty gears
as my wrinkled hand
avoids resistance
hovering a half inch
above the bannister -
safe.
now i watch youngsters skate.
those whipper snappers
with the gait of a purebred horse.
i huddle with my overloaded purse
carrying 3 cell phones and mine,
a roll of ticket winnings,
leftover candy,
then i
chase my four-year old grandson
‘round the outskirts
as he weaves between strangers
taking my heart with him.
mind you,
the thoroughbreds
are resting soundly
on the bench.
4/25/2019
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