Ruth Sabath Rosenthal


My granddaughter twirls round the room
and, in no time, I'm dancing to her tune.
Singing and swinging, our foreheads glisten,
Barney singing, turns her on like a light bulb
and turns me to thoughts of lost days of old --

my daughter's childhood I'd missed, when
I'd gone in search of meaning outside the home.
Not so far from that home, my daughter, alone
for the day, sips wine, solo, dines on Stouffer's.

Our dancing done, my granddaughter's hungry
for my homemade apple pie. Wants to watch TV.
Can't get enough of super heroes, fairy-tale endings.
I give her just what she asked for, yet, she's wanting
still, says she wants her daddy to move back home.

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