Crimped

This star­ted out as a line about an old woman I saw walk­ing in the street but it’s turned into some­thing about my Grandma. I don’t think it’s fin­ished yet, so first draft com­ments very much appre­ci­ated. Also, I have abso­lutely no idea how vil­lan­elles or pan­touns are sup­posed to work and I didn’t actu­ally look it up, I just went with what I felt like. I may look it up later and rework this so it’s a proper one.

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
He went to war and she raised twin girls like candlesticks
Time is some­thing you keep in your pocket for later

Lovers laugh and roll down grassed slopes, careless
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
Tomor­row a glass of sherry on her own, in her room
Time is some­thing you keep in your pocket for later
She is old and crimped like a pinched-off string.