Old, Generous, and Lonely

By
Four hundred miles away
she sits all alone,
in her small box-like room
with nothing to do, but stare
out that old, moldy, rotted window

She sporadically calls,
but I am usually too busy to talk.
She sends me money for no particular reason
and in return I send her a thank-you card

The least I could do is pick up when she calls,
and take a few minutes of my life to talk with
my loving great grandmother
Whom I often take for granted.





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