Fall-Cleaning

My grandmother is doing fall-cleaning, 

prepping her house for eternal winter,

storing her possessions for safe-keeping

like a squirrel hiding food for later use.

The winter that’s coming won’t let her take her

precious wall art and Christmas garlands, 

her prized Annalee dolls and china plates.

So she grabs a marker to send them on.

One small comment, a minor kind remark:

I say I like her Christmas mouse painting,

and she’s got her pen out, the ink all dark.

She writes my name on the back of the frame.

The next time I see the painting, it’s spring,

a time of rebirth, but not for all things. 

My grandmother, forever in the freeze;

she’s lost to the winter, at peace.

The Christmas painting is now in my house.

I never liked it much, that little mouse.

And yet, there on my wall it shall remain. 

her lost spirit, never to leave again.