My Gramma S Couch
Won’t you please take me back
To the brown couch at my Gramma’s house
With the big gold-framed antique mirror over it
And hand me Grampa’s old transistor radio
Covered in leather with glorious knobs
That brought me the glorious music of
The Beatles
While I played very carefully with
Her precious dog collection
Some tiny, some large
Hand blown glass or wooden carved
She promised it would be mine one day
I glance at where it hangs today
On my wall and smile
They thought they could cheat me out of it
But somehow Veronica won from beyond the grave
With a mighty flap of her shimmering wings
Slapping them across their vengeful, conniving faces
And it is mine
Won’t you please take me back
To the brown couch at my Gramma’s house
With the big gold-framed antique mirror over it
Her comfy living room filled with the beauty
Of stuffed antique chairs
Lit with pretty cranberry glass lamps
Crowned with fringed lampshades
On little marble-topped gilded tables
Next to the kitchen where the grownups crowded
To gossip about aunts, uncles and cousins
Thinking I wouldn’t understand
They had a lot to catch up on since last we were there
The auntie who was schizophrenic
The other who had exciting explanations about her absent husband
Whispers when Irish whiskey was mentioned at talk of my uncle and something called Bushmills
While my mother sat and preened in her professing of our family’s perfection
Won’t you please take me back
To the brown couch at my Gramma’s house
With the big gold-framed antique mirror over it
The road trip to Massachusetts from Virginia
Was a long one in our crowded station wagon
And started at McDonalds for breakfast
I always looked forward to that
Sitting on the coolness of the red and white tile benches
Built along the outside of McD’s
They didn’t even have indoor restaurants back then
Further on up the road
Us four kids traveling in the crowded back seats
Playing car games and card games
Eying the picnic basket
Filled with sandwiches, pickles, chips and juice
And apples, oranges and bananas
But no cookies or candy
Mother didn’t believe in that
Running around rest stops, stopping for more gas
Sleeping until we got there, tumbling out of the car to run to Gramma and Grampa
Like a litter of exuberant puppies
And were met by Farmer Koski who had walked out his back door
Picked us a bushel of his best fresh corn cobs when he saw our car driving down the forest dirt road to Gramma and Grampas’s big red farmhouse
Named Straw Hollow
I remember sitting on my Grampa’s lap across from the huge stone fireplace
It was the safest, happiest place in my life
We lost Grampa when they lived there
They had a ginger tabby named Tiger Lily
Who had to be renamed Tiger Louie when they realized their mistake
I’ll never forget the sound of my Gramma’s grief-stricken protests and cries
My mother answered Gramma’s bedroom door and I saw Gramma clinging to my aunt
My eyes asking my mother what was wrong
She said Tiger Louie was lost and that’s why Gramma was crying
It took me many years to realize that’s the day my Grampa died
Won’t you please take me back
To the brown couch at my Gramma’s house
With the big gold-framed antique mirror over it where
Aunt Aggie and Uncle Leon sat there
Big smiles, warm eyes, Uncle Leon’s cigars
Their infectious joy in life was to laugh
And have fun watching as we did too
Adirondack chairs with big puffy cushions
Smelling slightly musty
Being kept in the backyard all summer
Eating tomatoes that tasted as though kissed by heaven
And little cucumbers too
Perfect, splashed with crystal water
From the hose
Won’t you please take me back
To the brown couch at my Gramma’s house
With the big gold-framed antique mirror over it
So I can ask her all my questions
About why my parents married
Did she notice how they treated me
The way Auntie Helen did
And so I can hold her crooked, shaking hands
So like my own
And apologize for how I hurt her feelings while a runaway teenage girl
Who wound up just down the street from her house
All she wanted was for me to come see her
And to also apologize for years later
That I exhaustedly said, ”No, I really can’t”
Amidst her helpless, desperate litany
Sitting in her wheelchair, lost in her misery
Begging, “Can you please help me?”
Won’t you please take me back
To the brown couch at my Gramma’s house
With the big gold-framed antique mirror over it
Just don’t let me look into it
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
