She'd always pinch my cheek and say:
"How's my little man."
She'd walk me up to church or school
and hold my little hand.
Still what I remember most
beyond a psalm or test
was Grandma's crappy dress.
Charcoal Grey with four white things
that zippered up the front.
A pocketful of Kleenex balls
her hand would have to hunt.
A botched-up hem that went each way
from north to east to west
on Grandma's crappy dress.
On certain nights when storms arose
she'd run upstairs to me.
and grab a chair and settle down
to sing a melody.
But when I'd rise to hug goodnight
my underware would catch
on grandma's crappy dress.
So now it's time to say goodnight
wherever she may be
If she arrived in heaven
wow, I'm glad she's finally free.
However, if she's down in hell
the devil knows it's best
to burn that crappy dress.
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