My Grandmother was Right

 I’ve gradually come to discover

            That my Grandmother was right

That the eyes of needles are shrinking

            And jar lids are screwed on too tight

That buttons are getting more slippery

            And everyone’s starting to mumble

That shoes are now made with uneven soles

            Causing me to stumble

That someone’s back-filling my calendar

            With appointments I never made

That dashboard lights are dimmer

            And road signs are starting to fade

That books are now being printed

            With blurry sorts of letters

That Climate Change must be the reason
            Why, in summer, I wear sweaters

That someone’s raised all my shelves

            Or perhaps they’ve lowered the floors?

That a suspicious baggie of rubber-bands

            Has appeared in my junk drawer

That a curse has been put upon doorways

            Wiping all thoughts from my head

That each night my mattress is magically transformed

            From feathers to rocks and lead

That my “New & Improved” shampoo

            Is bleaching the colour from my hair

That there’s a tricky sticky substance

            On the seat of every chair

That the world keeps changing these simple tasks

            From “I can” to “I cannot do”

I believe I’ve finally discovered

            What my Grandmother already knew.

My Grandmother Was Right - by Lojo Russo copyright March 15, 2016