Feather pen fluttering, ink spilling grandmotherly perspective.
Circumspect of future generations; the Jetsons in flight.
Drones may carry the message, but hands-off to AI robots.
The lady down the lane,
was a grandmotherly type,
whenever we walked by
she would always wave and smile,
an owner of at least ten cats
each roamed the neighborhood,
appearing at our doors and mewing,
because of them the mice were fewing.
One day the lady down the lane
no longer smiled and waved at us,
her rocking chair sat empty on her porch,
a family member did a welfare check
and found that the lady died in her sleep,
as she was counting cats and sheep.
March 19, 2020
So I had to tell her to BLEEP off, Grandma.
She is fourteen, as of forty-six hours ago.
I am shocked.
I wisely decide to give her some Grandmotherly advice.
Me: Were there witnesses?
Molly: No.
Me: Did anyone have their I-phone out?
Molly: One, but I chased her down and smacked it out of her hand and hit delete.
I reported this conversation to my husband who rolled his eyes
And asked, “How is your Mini-Me?"
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