To Grandmother

Silver woman, upon us you had spread -
your face, a melting clock - you rose and fell
like tides.

I'd sail across the million wrinkles
and discover that you could still
carry the load of a smile.

To ride on the moons of your eyes ...
Your waning form,
your whines -
to know that I wasn't hope,
to know there wasn't time ...

I miss the rhythm
of your trembling hands.
And the square that made you walk.
I miss your silence as you watched
us talk and talk and talk.