My brother and I
Lived with my grandparents
One middle school year.
I have some of the best memories
One could have from that time.

My grandparents worked a wholesale
Paper route;
Stocking newspapers in the machines.
While most people were cutting zees.
It was hard and dirty work.
But…

Day in, day out,
Though weary and bleary;
Grandma filled my belly
With a hot breakfast’s bounty;
So that I knew no hunger,
Through the new day.

Ink-stained hands,
Caressed the skillet;
The smell of migas
Wafting in the air,
So that I knew no hunger,
Every new day.

Unconditional love,
Is the best love.
Grandmothers know
No other way.
It embedded
In their DNA.

Before the sun,
Before the bus,
While waking up, cooking sounds and
Grandma’s love filled the kitchen;
To gently break my fast;
So that I knew no hunger,
With the dawn of each day.

Grandma’s no longer with us,
I am sad to say;
But I bet, where she is,
Grandma’s still making breakfast;
Filling the bellies of angels,
So they know no hunger
Through the new day.

My brother and I
Lived with my grandparents
One middle school year.
I have some of the best memories
One could have from that time.
Especially of Grandma…and me.