you are the Ambrosia of my mind
the apple of my eye
crisp and Red delicious
a Macintosh in waiting

     Granny Smith is exuberant
     over our Gala to toast the Empire
     I see a Pink Lady in Fuji
     Honeycrisp in every way

you are the Envy of Pazzaz
playing Jazz in Cameo at the Braeburn
in front of Lady Alice in Holstein
like a Hidden Rose

     though Janagold is **** mixed with sweetness
     your Liberty embraces Gravenstein
     akin to a Pacific Rose like an Opal
     enjoying Winesap instead of Mutsu

Andreas Simic©

no one cares what you do on your last day on earth
except everyone else left behind to carry the hurt

im not saying its a free pass to do evil
i only wish to do good onto people

so is passing away bittersweet?
happy for me and sad for thee?

or is that why we celebrate
we all knew along the way
that this was fate

each one is different
just a shade of memories

i cannot be insensitive
some are taken entirely to early

so does anyone truly care
what you do on your last day on earth?

embracing the next step of the cycle
as you enter a new birth

while everyone else is left
behind to carry the hurt

and im not saying its a free pass to do evil
i only want to do good unto people.

just something ive come to think on
as i drive through Kentucky feeling withdrawn

Shedding tears and laughing in her memories is a movie watched on loop by me.

Story of granny about the deceased shining as a star is the force driving me into asking all stars the reason for her deviation from the path of her promise of never leaving me alone.

Silences are her replies if she really exists in any of the stars.
Silhouttes of dark circles under my eyes is the waiting for her reply.

Her betrayal is a fire and I'm its victim.

Have you seen my granny?
She shoots like Johnny Wayne,
Smokes cigarettes like Garbo,
Sings like Kelly in the rain.

She's doubtless at the movies
Watching Audrey zip 'round Rome,
And wishing she were young enough
To run away from home.

My nana laughs like Rita,
Plays chess like Steve McQueen,
She smoulders like her heroes do
Up on that silver screen.

Have you seen my granny?
She loves Bogart and Bacall,
And in her dreams forever
She is blonde and six-foot tall.

fondly remember your grandmother's house
as I share with you mine

a pantry, tall as a mountain when I was six.
a forbidden box of sugar cubes that was never really off limits
cookies, warm and soft. how does she always have them?
sitting in the rocking chair, toes miles away from the floors
strange stories you hope aren't true
ice cubes made of lemonade
an afternoon refresher
a sunday spent at home, at your grandma's house

always drawing and painting
playing in the yard
her cats in your lap, warm and fuzzy
she braids your hair with her wise, experienced hands
does she always smell like lavender?
gumdrops and hard candies
playing dominoes on the floor
there's nowhere else I'd rather be
than at home
at my grandma's house

Went to my grandma for advice today.

She gave the best advice I could get. Even a therapist, doctor, officer of the law and a scientist can't beat granny's advice. She is just too kind for me and beloved by me.

"In my time"
Its her way of staying relevant
Like a deer caught in the glare of an intruding pair of head lights
A slave to the clock ..
Her master contemplating her worth

"Her time is up"
A life spend chained to the shackles of expectation and imagination
Disillusioned soul ..  
Clouded by the illusions of fortune and imomortality
Clarity was reality
A painful realisation

"Tik Tok"
Death is on her door
He collects whats his
His fair
EVERYONE is his customer  

A fruitful life ?
A Wasteful life ?