A.D. Winans Page 2

Torn down in the
Name of progress
But they will live forever
In the back of my mind
My grandmother walking the corridors
Of my skull
Reaching out to me with
Bone cold hands
These transitory images
That won't leave me alone
Fading in and out
Like a bad movie

Worn down depressed
I struggle in the morning
To get out of bed
Cursed with insomnia
And an arthritic neck
Waking two three times a night

With a semi-full bladder
Trudging down the
Three flights of stairs
To retrieve the morning paper

In and out of doctor offices
Taking pills like candy
Seeing my grandmother
In the dark gloom of that
Third Street Hotel
Death crouched low
Like a sprinter waiting for the
Starter's gun  

A profile of the author and a downloadable copy of "Remembering My Grandmother" can be found on the next page.