I always wanted

That someday 

I’d have a big book of poetry 

That my grandmother

Would want to read

And keep in her library.

She had these dark, mahogany

Bookcases that went from the floor

Up to the ceiling in her dining room ,

And they were filled with books 

On philosophy and foreign languages 

And poetry, big,  thick , collections

Of yellow paged editions of poetry.

I read A.A. Milne, and Emily Dickinson ,

T.O. Daly and Shakespeare snd Emerson

And Robert Burns snd Chaucer’s Tales,

And anything I could get my hands on, really.

And one day, I will have a big book of Poetry 

That my Grandmother would love 

To have in her library, and she would read it, too,

If she were still around, for she’d read all

Those books and more, that I found

In her library, and she knew

Just where to go to find the quote 

She might be looking for.

And maybe she would even quote me.

It would be easy for her to do,

For, in truth, I  quote her a lot, too,

In what I call, my poetry.

-jenn