Wrinkled hands relentlessly search
For the missing partner
Of my yellow striped sock,
Our daily game of hide and seek.

A timer dings! and she takes a break
To shuffle her way back to the kitchen
And stir the simmering pasta ***
She is no longer able to lift.

Seventy years of cream pies,
and mended sweaters—
La dolce vita she always says,
remembering Naples.

At a milestone where many lose hope
Grandma knows her mission is not yet finished
Because the gravy is almost ready
And that sock must be around here somewhere.