Jill M’dear
Jill m’dear, down the street, I
dilly dally sleep, and you
with your dog-fur-and-all
(what’s his name), and
the first time I see a hook
in place of a hand, your dad’s
(and I think, ‘perhaps a war’).
Down, my grandma,
from up North; and I
dilly dally sleep just down the road,
missing her, missing her, convinced
by mom and her to keep
company with friends - friends?
I miss her, miss her, my grandma
and not Jill m’dear, down the street -
not in the least. Still the memory,
does dilly dally and sends me
back in time to keep a candle burning.
We were never friends. She invited me
this one night - we didn’t mesh. I
left better friends back in the village.
I didn’t want to go and spend the night,
but I was convinced; and would I
remember this night so vividly, besides?
My grandma also convinced me
to wander out in curlers, ‘neath a scarf.
Self conscious was I, but if she was here,
back from the past, I’d wander out
once again, to a store, red in face.
Would I then go and spend time,
once more, with Jill m’dear, just
to glimpse my gram’s convincing,
and hear her Buffalonian accent?
You betcha! …and see my mom, too.
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2025
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