For my Grandmother

She is old and crimped like a pinched-off string
Yesterday was filled with memories of buttercups
She made dolls of mountain devils when they were babes
Tomorrow, a glass of sherry on her own, in her room

Yesterday was filled with memories of buttercups
Lovers laugh and roll down grassed slopes, careless
Tomorrow, a glass of sherry on her own, in her room
Time is something you keep in your pocket for later

Lovers laugh and roll down grassed slopes, careless
He went to war and she raised twin girls like candlesticks
Time is something you keep in your pocket for later
Memory wanders in through cracks in the pavement

He went to war and she raised twin girls like candlesticks
Sydney in the summer is thunderstorms and haze
Memory wanders in through cracks in the pavement
Her grandchildren are voices on the phone and cards at birthdays

Sydney in the summer is thunderstorms and haze
She made dolls of mountain devils when they were babes
Her grandchildren are voices on the phone and cards at birthdays
She is old and crimped like a pinched-off string.