this speaks my life. i grew up with my one of my grandmothers (as well as both parents) but she raised me while my folks worked long hours. when i see her now of course i am happy but i develop a strange feeling, and your poem describes it, perfectly.
i hope you don't mind dripping colors but i have an anecdote about another grandmother
i lost one of my other grandmothers (i have three by a divorce) during the spring tour while i was on the road. a dreadful call. i knew something was wrong when i received the call from my sister that early. i was able to go home for the funeral on the sat night tower show, didn't have a ticket and assumed i wouldn't be going. as the funeral wrapped up i was getting ready to slowly make my way back to philly for the rest of the tour, when george and co. called me with an extra for under face. i drove about 95 mph back to philly from WNY and walked in during the opener, of course, music never stopped. i think my grandmother wanted me to be at that show. she guided me there. the entire trip back seemed impossible while calculating in my head. i ended up running about 3/4 a mile to the box office out of breath. he's gone, not fade away, we love you, the wheel, black peter, gdtrfb>bid you goodnight all took on new meanings that particular night.
thanks a lot for the poem dripping colors!
are these all your own work?
who else is gonna bring you, a broken arrow?