For my Grandmother

She is old and crimped like a pinched-off string
Yes­ter­day was filled with memor­ies of buttercups
She made dolls of moun­tain devils when they were babes
Tomor­row, a glass of sherry on her own, in her room

Yes­ter­day was filled with memor­ies of buttercups
Lovers laugh and roll down grassed slopes, careless
Tomor­row, a glass of sherry on her own, in her room
Time is some­thing you keep in your pocket for later

Lovers laugh and roll down grassed slopes, careless
He went to war and she raised twin girls like candlesticks
Time is some­thing you keep in your pocket for later
Memory wanders in through cracks in the pavement

He went to war and she raised twin girls like candlesticks
Sydney in the summer is thun­der­storms and haze
Memory wanders in through cracks in the pavement
Her grand­chil­dren are voices on the phone and cards at birthdays

Sydney in the summer is thun­der­storms and haze
She made dolls of moun­tain devils when they were babes
Her grand­chil­dren are voices on the phone and cards at birthdays
She is old and crimped like a pinched-off string.