Tag: grandmother

  • Untitled poem by my sister Vi

    When I visited,my Grammaalwayssmiledat meandI always yelled,“Hi Gramma!”My Dadwould besitting onthe flowered couch,bothered bythe hot weather,the Pirateswere on,the overhead fanwhirredbutit wasso hotit reallydidn’t helpmuchandafter I sat therefor a while,my dear Grammawould yell (because the TV was so loud),“Hey Vi – go to the cellarand get a pop!”my Dadprotested,and Grammaalways said,“Aww, Joey,let Viget a pop! It’s…