I’ll find you both in the valley of lilies, wafting away the smell of mothballs from your clothes.
My country grandmother, sunning yourself on the rim of your best Sunday hat,
taking a well-earned rest from your garden of vegetables and honey.
My city grandmother, swinging yourself from the handle of your trolley-bag,
so ill in life – now racing.
I’ll see you both, my grandmothers, smiling through a haze of lilies.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, January 2019