Grandmothers House

I come to play at Grandmothers House
And receive their guidance.
I notice the bright flowers, the red brick, the black door,
The rich texture of the rugs.
They serve me tea and respect and love
And send me back out to my mother,
Whom I did not hear calling.

I avoid going to Grandmothers House.
My feet just don’t seem to go there.
I am too busy for wisdom.
The world outside their safe brick
Overwhelms me as I keep up.
I could go but I would only fidget
Through polite playful talk and tea
Waiting to be called away.

I sit in Grandmothers House.
And entertain those that come.
My power is limited: I am caged in safe traditional brick
Where I dispense comfort and care.
I steep my dreams in those who still have
Freedom to pursue their own.
I try to guide and mostly
I teach them to understand love.
This is my calling.