Country music in the air
while coffee's brewing in the kitchen-
Marty Robbins, Lefty Frizelle
even old Hank Williams now and then.

His cowboy hat's pushed way back,
old black boots sit by the door.
His squawking parrot's spitting birdseed
half a mile across the floor.

Grandpa laughs as that old bird
emits a screech the whole block can hear.
He thinks if he bullies loud enough
Grandpa might share his glass of beer.

Grandma's laughing at their antics
knowing once more the bird has won.
She finishes frying the chicken
and announces supper's done.

After dinner, Grandpa's snoring
and I sneak to the t.v.
I change the stupid boxing match
only to find he's watching me.

So I turn it back to boxing
and I call out Grandma's name,
I talk her into dealing cards
for what I'm sure's her favorite game.

Eleven rounds of Go Fish
then it's time to go to bed.
I snuggle under the hand-made quilt,
good-night kisses on my head.

When I wake up, slowly blinking,
thirty years have come and gone,
confusion fading quickly
as the night gives way to dawn.

When you're little, you've no idea
how easily lost are those so dear.
You just know, without thinking,
they will always be right here.

Though they've been gone for decades,
it's not been long, suddenly, it seems.
They were with me just last night,
a gift, this reunion in my dreams.

For those few moments I was back there
smiling at Grandpa's laughing face.
For a heartbeat I was back then
safe in Grandma's warm embrace.